as small a world
by fiesa
Summary: After the events of the Bergatt Treason, Mitsuhide Rouen accompanies Katherine Seiran back to her father's estate before they return to Castle Wistalia. Mitsuhide (Kiki), Zen (Shirayuki). (Some people have kingdoms to protect.)
1. I

**as small a world**

 _Summary: After the events of the Bergatt Treason, Mitsuhide Rouen accompanies Katherine Seiran back to her father's estate before they return to Castle Wistalia. Mitsuhide (Kiki), Zen (Shirayuki). (Some people have kingdoms to protect.) Complete in four chapters._

 _Warning: There's, like,_ nothing _we know about Mitsuhide's life before he became a knight, so I am taking some creative liberties here. (Some of them might sound familiar if you've read other stories of mine.) Also: this will be long, winding and angsty. Introspective, without real plot. Basically, I'm trying to clear up some things for me._

 _Set: After the events of the Bergatt Arc (up to ch. 89)._

 _Disclaimer: Standards apply._

 _For_ bbqberticus _. Because I agree with her completely: Mitsuhide, darn it, deserves more backstory and main story arcs than he got so far. And at this point, his future seems bleak._

* * *

 _"_ _may came home with a smooth round stone  
as small as a world and as large as alone"  
[in the sea, by e. e. cummings]_

* * *

 **I.**

Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines, Crown Prince of the Realm, prospective Ruler of Castle Wilant and designated Protector of the Northern Realms, knew exactly how to take his Sword.

"No discussion, Mitsuhide. You're accompanying Kiki to Evergreen Manor. The Captain already forced a protective detail of at least twelve knights onto me and I still have Obi here. Nothing will happen to me on the way back to Wistalia. Kiki, on the other hand…"

He trailed off suggestively, and Mitsuhide had to give him that: he was _good._ Where had he honed his skills to this masterful level of manipulation?

Of course, it wasn't _technically_ manipulation if the manipulated could see right through it, was it?

 _(Didn't mean it wasn't effective as hell.)_

"Mitsuhide! Did you hear me?"

"Yes, but-"

"No buts." Zen's expression closed. "Mitsuhide. That's an order, do you understand?"

And Mitsuhide _did_ understand.

It just didn't mean he had to like it.

"I don't think you're already in the state to attempt the journey back to Wistalia."

One of the knights currently guarding Zen – green and younger than was good for him – looked like the fact that Mitsuhide was arguing with his prince was cause him a heart attack. Mitsuhide ignored him.

A few years– maybe even months – ago, the Prince would have reacted to the mixture of plea and authority Mitsuhide knew to put into his voice. He wished desperately for it to work, but knew it was useless now. It would never work again.

It wasn't that he didn't want Zen to journey. It wasn't that he didn't trust the knights Celeg's Captain probably had already hand-picked to make _absolutely_ sure there would nothing ever happen to the Crown Prince on his ride back to the capital. After Bergatt and his people had managed to invade the garrison, every person living within Celeg's walls – from the lowly kitchen aide up to the captain, and, _perhaps_ even the vice-captain – saw it as their highest duty to ensure the Prince's – who had been attacked on _their_ watch, after all – safe return to Castle Wistalia. And it was his Sword's task to make sure it happened.

A few years ago, Zen might have yielded to Mitsuhide's silent glower. It hit him with the force of an unchecked blow: _that time was over._ Zen Wistalia answered his protest with a calm glance that held both reproach and understanding, and a very clear _command_.

"I am well enough again. There is no need to delay the journey back."

"The twins can speak for themselves, Zen-"

"Mitsuhide…" The sharp glance he caught next still did not manage to silence him. At any other occasion, Mitsuhide would have been mortified about the slip, but right now he did not care.

"King Izana will want to question them, anyway-"

" _Mitsuhide."_

Mitsuhide closed his mouth with an audible snap, and Zen's gaze turned soft.

"It will be fine. Everything will be alright, Mitsuhide."

And that, he thought, defeated, was where Zen was wrong.

* * *

Mitsuhide Rouen's world was small.

It wasn't a country.

Of course, he loved Clarines, loved the capital Wistalia that had been a home for him for the past ten years. Loved the Garrison of Celeg, where he'd trained and grown and had lived for many years. And he loved his home – the open plains to the west, dotted by cattle and the small herds of wild horses that yielded to neat, orderly fields of wheat, rape and corn. The farm house he'd grown up in; his strong, beautiful mother, his calm, silent father, his six brothers, loud and boastful. All of those had been his world, for a while, had been the center of his life. But worlds changed, didn't they, and wasn't that what made humans human? They lived and learned and grew, and sometimes outgrew old worlds and formed new ones.

It wasn't a castle.

Castle Wistalia was enormous, with towers and walls and spires and bridges, guard rooms, training halls, throne rooms (yes, throne _rooms,_ as in plural), guest wings, kitchen tracts, meeting rooms, libraries, laundry rooms, stables, greenhouses, the healing tract, the astronomy tower, the aviary. And not to mention the grounds. The kitchen garden, the rose garden, the Poet's Garden, the Hallway of Fountains, the parade ground, the outdoor training facilities. The forest. Castle Wistalia was a sprawling assembly of more-and-less interconnected buildings, hallways and wings, an ever-shifting entity, a beautiful creature. A world in itself, for sure. Just not Mitsuhide's.

His world wasn't even a room.

It could have been, perhaps, in a different life: the bright training hall with its open windows letting in the salty sea air from the cliffs. Or the private part of the library that was reserved for the Second Prince's work, the room with its cozy fireplace and high ceilings, with scrolls and books and a huge desk in the middle. In another life, his world could have been the horse stables, or the guard's barracks, or even the little chapel (his grandmother had insisted the seventh son was supposed to join the clergy). But while he loved the stables with their comforting scent of horse and hay ( _home smelled that way_ ), or the training hall – polished steel and worn leather, mingling with sweat and work and ocean air _(home, here, too, a different one at a different time, but no less important)_ – or even Zen's office; none of those rooms ever managed to become something like his world.

No.

Mitsuhide's world was five feet nine inches tall and human-shaped, lean, muscled, blond and blue-eyed. With a calm gaze and a strong grip and a mind sharper than any sword fresh from the whetstone. It was bronze skin and a voice that carried the edge of command, a voice that knew and expected obeisance but that, nevertheless, could be calm and kind. Unsure, warm and patient. And, also, impatient and whiny and bossy, because nobody ever said that his life should be an easy one.

Mitsuhide's whole world was a person: Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince and Crown Prince to the Kingdom of Clarines, prospective ruler of Castle Wilant and designated Protector of the North, and he has been since the day Mitsuhide lifted his sword in his protection the first time.

* * *

Celeg at night was beautiful.

The white sandstone of the walls gleamed in the moonlight, and the cold soaked through his armor and all the way into his bones. It reminded Mitsuhide of the first time he had seen the garrison: a white lady at the horizon, a fortress of strength and calm. The focus of so many stories Takanari had told him about, up to the point that a lanky, eight-year old boy had dreamed of becoming a knight in that garrison himself. It could have been straight out of a fairytale, except it was not.

In the plains, away from the city with its streets and houses and lights, away from the woods in which the tree crowns blotted out the sky, the stars were brighter than anything.

Had Kiki seen the sky over Celeg, before? On clear nights, one could even see the silver band of the milky way –

"A word, Knight Rouen."

Hisame Lugis had the typical, arrogant expression of nobility and carried it with all the poise and grace of a person who felt like the world owed him for existing, and expected to be thanked for it. No amount of rationality would ever manage to banish the surge of animosity he felt whenever he was faced with Celeg's Vice Captain. It was neither the arrogance nor the difference in status that set Mitsuhide's teeth on edge, he knew pretty well. It was something else, something no less important but no more trivial: it was the abyss of _something_ between them that could have held rank and position, family and background, ability and future. And yet all those aspects were only part of why Mitsuhide detested the man, and why he loathed himself for feeling that way.

"Of course, Vice Captain, what can I do for you?"

"You are aware that my proposal to Lady Seiran was merely for the purpose of drawing out the real power behind the attacks on those noblemen, I assume."

Maybe it was this, too: the absolute note of disinterest in Lugis' words when he talked about things that were of earth-shattering importance to others.

"Oh, was that it? I had thought your ambition was to marry into the Seiran family, since there is no way to gain power otherwise, you being the youngest son of the Lugis family."

If Mitsuhide's words affected the man in front of him in any way, it didn't show. It never did.

"Oh, but there are other families than the Seiran Clan, I assure you. My ambitions are not the least slighted by Lady Seiran's refusal. If anything, she saved me from having Lord Seiran as my father-in-law."

Mitsuhide clenched his hand around his sword hilt, feeling his fingernails bite into his palm. The pain was sharp, a reminder.

"I wouldn't want to stand in the way of your plans, Vice Captain."

"Of course not."

Mitsuhide loathed the smile, so he returned it with one of his own. For the span of heart-beats, they just stood there, carefully measuring each other up. Until Lugis' smile became even wider.

"I have been told you are traveling to Evergreen Manor next. I am glad Lady Katherine is accompanied by a knight as distinguished as you are."

Mitsuhide stood very, very still.

"I hear the fact that her last suitors were attacked has diminished the number of proposals she is receiving," Lugis continued. "Now, with the real perpetrators caught, people surely will become more daring again. Goodbye, Knight Rouen. Give my regards to Lord Seiran and Lady Katherine."

"It will be my pleasure." He felt his lips twist over his teeth, knew his grin was feral and didn't care. "The best of luck for your future prospects, Vice Captain."

"It isn't _my_ future you should need to worry about, Knight Rouen."

Lugis' cape billowed behind him like the cape of a true super villain, and Mitsuhide – Mitsuhide _seethed._

* * *

But he couldn't exactly hate him, could he?

Not when Hisame Lugis only had voiced the things he had been refusing to think of himself.

* * *

It all happened very quickly, in the end.

Zen and Obi took off with a sizable guard detail, straight towards Clarines. Mitsuhide and Kiki watched the dust of their horses dissipate into the early-morning air and then took their leave, as well, directing their horses towards the East and the rising sun.

After all those days of being stuck ( _ha, ha,_ supplied his brain, _you mean of being accused and held imprisoned)_ in Celeg – he loved the garrison, but it was one thing to be _staying_ there and another completely different one to _be forced to stay there_ – it felt good to feel the wind on his face, the sun on his skin. After all those days of tension and darkness, sitting on the narrow bed of the tower room, waiting, waiting, unable to do anything else and knowing that there was something he couldn't protect Zen from because he was _imprisoned_ in there, it was _almost_ freeing.

Knowing that he had been accused of murder in order to restrict Zen's freedom of decisions, in order to _hurt_ the Second Prince; being the instrument of his downfall or, at least, being the weapon to cut him so deeply –

"Where are you, Mitsuhide?"

"Huh?"

He tore himself back to the present with difficulty, focusing on the landscape passing by, on Solitaire's smooth, powerful stride carrying him over the hilly plains. Kiki was looking at him, her gaze unreadable even after all those years they had spent together.

"Where are you?" She repeated, almost softly.

"I'm here," he answered, automatically, confused by both her question and her tone. "Where else would I be?"

She didn't answer, her eyes flitting over his face and away, her shoulders rising and falling with her mare's steady gait.

And Mitsuhide realized, belatedly, that Kiki would never ask a question to which the answer was so obvious.

There was a second in which he could have answered – could have told her the truth, the weight of the thoughts, the guilt and the blame and the terrifyingly empty future he was riding towards. He opened his mouth to say something – something, _anything_ – and then the second was gone, and he closed his lips again.

Kiki's shoulders stiffened, but she didn't look back at him.

* * *

Evergreen Manor was… _large._

Mitsuhide had been here before. Trice, actually: two times as Zen's Sword, and one time with Kiki, when she had gone to ask her father for an extension of her time as Zen's aide. All three times, they hadn't stayed long. This time, knowing he would be spending at least two days and three nights in the walls of the large estate, he eyed it with greater interest – suspicion, more like it – and felt apprehension boil in his chest.

He swallowed, and deliberately calmed his heart beat.

"Daughter. It is good to see you safe and sound."

Lord Seiran was tall and broad-shouldered, and wore his title like a cloak. Everything on him seemed to demand the respect that was his due, from his eagle eyes down to the tip of the sword that was belted at his side. Mitsuhide immediately recognized it for what it was: a weapon of war. There was a weapon that had spilt blood, not a fancy ornament meant to convey the wealth and status of a nobleman.

Had he seen Kiki's father carry a sword before? He had always pegged him to be more the scholar than a warrior.

"Father."

People had called Kiki _Ice Queen_ , for her unreadable expression and her lack of emotion. Mitsuhide thought all these people utter idiots for their inability to see the true Kiki. The tone of her voice, the cadence – the way she lowered her head briefly: all of it breathed her respect and regard for her father.

Lord Seiran held out his hand to help her from her mare, and Kiki let him, taking it and sliding down gracefully. He pulled her into a hug – brief, but strong – and then let go of her to look at her.

"You seem well, daughter."

"I am." Kiki smiled, and half-turned to Mitsuhide. "Knight Rouen and I will stay for three nights, father. There is a lot we have to discuss."

"Is that so." Kiki's features were her own, but her mannerisms definitely had been inherited from her father. The dryness of his tone was even more pronounced than the one he knew from her. "Will Knight Rouen be part of those discussions, as well?"

Mitsuhide felt the flush on his face, hot and embarrassing, and opened his mouth, but Kiki beat him to it.

"No, father. After what happened at Celeg, the Second Prince sent him along for my protection."

"I see."

From Lord Seiran's frown it was pretty obvious that he indeed _did not_ see. Kiki didn't turn to look at Mitsuhide, and he was glad for it. Following the embarrassment closely, a wave of guilt crashed down on him, icing his bones and his marrow and making him feel cold all over.

 _Protection._

He hadn't realized –

Idiotic. What had Zen thought? Sending him to protect Kiki was almost as irrational as putting Obi on babysitting duty and expecting him to keep the kids quiet and calm in a room. After all that had happened, about the only thing Mitsuhide _knew for sure_ was that it had been his fault, utterly and entirely. He had managed to suppress the thought – the fight of getting to Zen on time and the following confrontation with Touka Bergatt had distracted him, and then Zen's mere presence had made him think of the Prince's safety and state of mind more than of his own. But after a day of riding, with nothing to focus his mind on, and with Kiki's father looking at him like that with those grey, unreadable, _cool_ eyes, it all came back.

 _Protection._

HA.

It made him want to laugh out loud.

He didn't think it would plead his case if he suddenly started laughing hysterically, though, so he held it in.

"You must be tired from the ride. Your room has been prepared, daughter, and a guest room for Knight Rouen. Take your time to refresh yourself, and join me for dinner."

"Thank you, father."

Before Mitsuhide could voice his thanks, as well, Lord Seiran had turned around, waved at the butler standing silently in a corner and vanished up the grand staircase. Kiki nodded at him to follow the butler, and he did as expected, cold and numb.

* * *

Mitsuhide, as the Sword of the Second Prince, had stayed in many elegant – even extravagant – estates with lavish guest suites before.

Evergreen Manor was no different.

The open windows displayed the rose gardens in their full summer bloom. He could almost smell the sweetness of their blossoms.

He tore his eyes away and attempted to dust and straighten himself into a half-way passable appearance that would be appropriate for sitting at a table with one of the Lords of the Realm and his daughter.

* * *

Despite his best efforts, dinner was an uncomfortable affair.

Mitsuhide listened to Lord Seiran's and Kiki's conversation politely, duly noting all the times one of them tried to draw him into it and giving his best to keep up his part.

But he wasn't a nobleman.

He was a farm boy turned soldier turned knight.

He had neither Shirayuki's natural skills of lightening and holding up conversation, nor Zen's polished, well-practiced ease around people of whatever rank. Obi, he supposed, wouldn't have been found dead at such a table; though he did have the slight suspicion the ninja would have done it for their lady, had she requested it, and would have pulled it off smoothly.

Not that it mattered now.

Mitsuhide ate the excellent food and tasted none of it, answered the questions directed at him and remembered none of them later on, and smiled until the muscles of his face ached.

* * *

He didn't remember his dreams in the morning.

* * *

Evergreen Manor was silent compared to the morning hustle and bustle in the palace: no changing of the guard, no cleaning ladies gossiping in the corridors, no lords and ladies making their way to and from the breakfast rooms, no messenger boys flitting in and out of sight. The breakfast was as lavish as the dinner of the previous day had been, and was served in almost complete silence. The only time the serving lady – grey and severe, and severely disapproving of his fumbling attempt to not drop the dish of pancakes – actually talked to him was to ask whether he favored tea or coffee.

Shame-facedly, Mitsuhide asked for tea.

When he finished his breakfast he just sat at the table, unsure what to do next. The serving lady made his china disappear and then, while shooting him disapproving looks again, waved in three hustled-looking girls who cleared away the buffet – it still held enough food for a small platoon of knights – within minutes. They glanced towards him, now and then, exchanging whispered comments, and Mitsuhide, unable to take it any longer, got up and fled the hall.

Only then did he realize he had no idea what to do.

"Excuse me, Sir, where do I find Ki – Lady Katherine?"

It had taken him maybe half an hour to find someone who looked like he could help him. Lord Seiran's butler, in return, looked at him like he _knew_ , and judged.

"Lady Katherine is in a discussion with Lord Seiran. She told me to tell you to make use of the stables, the training hall, the forest, the hunting grounds and the gardens to your heart's content."

There was nothing left to say.

"Thank you?"

The glance the butler gifted Mitsuhide with was nothing more than pure disdain, disguised as stiff politeness.

"You are welcome, Knight Rouen."

Too late, Mitsuhide realized he should have asked for directions, as well.

* * *

Lord Seiran bred race horses.

Of course.

Among the sleek, pure-blooded animal with their high heads and arched necks, Solitaire looked like the wild stallion he was: rugged and worn. He was contentedly munching from his trough, ignoring the commotion of the other horses that were sensing a stranger. Mitsuhide grinned as his stallion shook his mane in mocking pride. Two boxes away, Kiki's mare was dozing on her feet. She accepted a brief pat.

Solitaire, however, put his soft nose into his hand and breathed out softly, and suddenly the air seemed a lot warmer than before.

"Ya don't see many of'em around anymore," a voice next to him commented.

The stable master had a face so weathered from the elements that he must have looked far older than he was. Mitsuhide almost jumped, and then scolded himself for forgetting his surroundings.

The man continued on, without giving any indication that he had seen his reaction.

"Wild stallion from the Western Plains, huh. Faster than the wind, prouder than a king. Impossible to tame." Solitaire nuzzled the man's hand, too, and then shook his mane again, this time playfully. "He had ya for long?"

"We've been together for some time," Mitsuhide said and shrugged.

The stable master eyed the stallion from his hooves to the tips of his curiously cocked ears. "Must be quite some story."

The Western Plains, grass land as far as the eye could see, a boy and a foal and the beginning of something –

"Must be."

Not perturbed by Mitsuhide's curt answers, the man shifted his attention from the horse to the man next to him. The cursory glance he got made his hairs rise at the back of his neck, but there was no danger. Just an evaluating once-over, eagle-eyed and sharp-minded.

"Ya a knight?"

"Yes."

"I see. The likes of you don't normally train with horses, do you."

"Not normally, no." Celeg knights were taught horse riding and how to take care of them, since it was a basic necessity. But they were knights, not the cavalry.

"Huh." Sharp eyes bore into him, relentlessly, until Solitaire head-butted the stable master and whinnied. A smile broke out over the man's face. "Ya protective of him, Wild One? I see." He produced a carrot from nowhere. "There ya go."

Then, he turned back to Mitsuhide. "Wanna give me a hand?"

For the lack of better options, Mitsuhide nodded. "Why not?"

The work reminded him of home, of warm stables and the scent of wild horses, their calls on the wind. It made his muscles, used to other activities, burn pleasantly and gave his hands a task to do.

Unfortunately, it left his mind free to wander.

* * *

"Knight Rouen," Lord Seiran said at dinner. "I apologize. We have left you to your own devices today and I fear I will have to request my daughter's presence again tomorrow. Is there anything I can do to lighten your boredom?"

Mitsuhide rushed to ensure the lord that he hadn't been bored at all, and wouldn't be so the next day.

It was not a lie.

He made some small talk complimenting the lord on his stables and his race horses, while trying not to think about how much nicer it would have been to have Kiki by his side today. But once she set her mind to something, she went through with it. Kiki was like that: if she decided to protect Zen, she would protect Zen. If she decided to learn everything she needed to follow in her father's footsteps one day, she would do so, take all the time it needed and excel in it.

* * *

She was waiting for him when he reached the doors to his guest chambers; a slim shadow in the darkness. She was wearing a dress – its blue matched her eyes so well it made him ache – and the material rustled softly whenever she moved. He couldn't have said whether he'd ever seen her more beautiful than that, with the moonlight painting on her hair and her nape bare and beautiful. But Kiki was beautiful no matter what she wore.

He stopped when he saw her, and she stepped out of the shadow and into the moonlight. His heart skipped a beat and resumed again at a much quicker pace. He'd _almost_ gotten used to its reaction to her sight, by now.

"Mitsuhide. I'm sorry."

He swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. "What for?"

She didn't answer, just looked at him. Time stretched.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

Somehow, he didn't think that Lord Seiran's butler – or the Lord himself, for that instance – would have found it appropriate for the lady of the house, married or not, to go on a midnight stroll through the gardens with a knight. But he'd been alone the whole day, and she looked beautiful in the moonlight, and his defenses had been reduced to rubble and dust, anyway.

He nodded.

* * *

They didn't even talk.

Kiki accompanied him back to his guest room and they stood in front of the door, silently.

"I should have brought you to your quarters," he said, and received one of her tiny, heart-stopping smiles.

"Don't be stupid."

"No, honestly. Being the gentleman, and stuff."

Kiki lifted her hand, and for a second he thought she was going to touch him. But she only brushed away some dust from his shoulder, and then dropped her hand again.

"You're always a knight, Mitsuhide."

And before he could ask what she meant by that she had turned around and disappeared down the corridor, and the rustling sound of her dress vanished, as well.

* * *

He still couldn't remember his dreams.

* * *

The training hall of Evergreen Manor was filled with every kind of weapon he'd ever seen, and some he hadn't seen and would never have been able to name.

Not that it mattered.

Mitsuhide stripped down to his shirt, trousers and boots, carefully placed his sword belt and sheath in a corner of the hall, took a deep breath and began a series of warm-ups.

When he had joined the garrison of Celeg at the age of eleven, lanky but strong from a life of working on a horse farm, the first person he had run into (literally, because, well, _Mitsuhide!)_ had turned out to be his future best friend and brother-in-arms. The first confrontation he'd landed himself in had been with the nephew of the current captain. Teir Galeris had been very conscious of the fact that the Galeris family ranked third in the kingdom's throne succession and had not taken well to the fact that a farm boy who had grown up wielding pitchforks managed to disarm him with their wooden training staffs within a few seconds only. It was then that Mitsuhide had learned that there were people that were – either in their own thinking, or due to their status – elevated beyond what he had known for all his life. And that sometimes, those people needed to put others down to feel their own worth. But Celeg hadn't only taught him the differences between men. She had also taught him the worth of friendship and camaraderie, of faith and loyalty, of patience and, sometimes, of quick and brutal action. She had taught him everything he had needed in order to be chosen as Zen's sword.

Whenever he fell back into training mode, he could hear his instructor's voice echoing through his mind.

 _Your sword is an extension of your arm! Don't handle it like a ladle! Are you a swordsman or a cook?_

Feeling his muscles stretch easily under the warm-up routine, Mitsuhide switched to sword forms. Without any second thought, his body flowed through the series of complex movements, muscle memory guiding him safely. _Parry. Evade. Stab._ Forwards, back. _Duck._ It was like a dance – it _was_ a dance, in many senses of the word. A choreography, rehearsed and rehearsed until it had become ingrained into the core of his being. His sword flashed in the sunlight filtering through the windows, the weight in his hand more familiar than anything.

 _I will guard Knight Rouen's sword until his innocence has been proven._

Zen's face, furious beyond belief for those who knew what to look out for, the anger mixing with the helpless realization that not even he, as the Second Prince, would be able to help his aide. The familiar weight of his sword as he handed it over to Zen, and the immediate sense of _loss._ Kiki's eyes – blazing, icy –

 _There is no way Knight Rouen is guilty of the charges you are accusing him of._

The trust in her eyes, and in Zen's, as everything else Mitsuhide had believed in fell away and left him cold, helpless and lost –

He came back to reality, breathing hard, feeling his own pulse in the hard grasp he had on the hilt of his sword. The blood in his ears was rushing so loudly it must be audible to anyone else, but he still was alone in the training hall. He'd made his way through four of the six sword forms way faster than they were meant to be done – they were training forms, used to improve style and coherence, not for actual combat. Taking a deep breath, he took up ready stance again, his feet planted on the ground firmly, and then launched himself into the fifth form.

 _You're just a stable boy from the Western Plains,_ Teir taunted, and Mitsuhide felt all his reservations, all his mother's lectures, slowly disappear as the spoilt Lord's son challenged him to a duel he did not expect the farm boy to agree to. And, seamlessly, the voice merged with another one: _You were just a simple soldier before you came to the castle. You only were chosen because you are a passable swordsman_ _._ Mitsuhide parried a low, two-sided attack of two imaginary opponents by blocking the first one and diving out of reach of the second. He came up in a roll, his sword flashing out, then corrected the angle and decapitated a third invisible foe. Kiki liked to use the same combination, she would – _now!_ He shifted, blocked and went in low, dodged and sprang forward again, and, just like that, another two imaginary opponents were out like a light. He allowed himself ten heartbeats between the fifth and the last form, breathing in and out to calm his heart, and then launched into the last series of attacks, feints and parades.

 _Brother said whenever I want to go he will send me to Wilant._

Even King Izana was mocking him. Mitsuhide had long given up on peeking behind the mask the King of Clarines wore. However, he had been taught basic politics, and living in the Castle – working with Zen day after day – had given him a comprehensive understanding of Royal politics. Izana wanted to send Zen to Wilant, to have him take over the position of Ruler of Castle Wilant and Protector of the North from Queen Mother Haruto. As it was, Mitsuhide agreed completely with that decision: it would keep the Northern territories, including the ones that had formerly belonged to the Bergatt, under the scrutiny of the Crown. Izana could rest assured: Zen was loyal to his brother and the crown, and would represent him faithfully. Working with the Allurion family – one of the oldest noble families of Clarines, and the one Queen Haki hailed from, no less – would keep the peace up in the North. The King had even gone as far as considering Shirayuki's position: as a Royal Apothecary, and one that had been trained by both Garaku Gazelt, the famous apothecary, and by the pharmacists of Lyrias, she was the ideal candidate for the Royal Apothecary position in Wilant. There still was quite a step from apothecary to bride of the second prince, but they could work on that. Together. As it was, it was a plan as solid and committed as anything Mitsuhide would expect coming from King Izana. There was just one loophole, tiny and insignificant.

This time, the sound of a horn jarred Mitsuhide out of his concentration; he paused in the middle of the sixth form, his breathing quick and jagged. But the sound didn't repeat. Only silence greeted him, eerie and hollow.

He clenched his teeth and began the form from the beginning, ignoring his burning muscles. The sword in his hand felt alive.

When he finally finished up late in the afternoon, his muscles were on fire.

Mitsuhide was by no means out of training, but almost eight hours of it would have taken their toll out of even the strongest, most fit knight. Almost stumbling with exhaustion, he returned to his room and left again to take a bath, and, finally, clean, shaved and feeling comfortably numb, sat down to look at some papers Zen had tried to hide from him – probably evidence of the Bergatt's treacherous activities. He'd been unable to look at them before, but with the physical exhaustion came a mental detachedness that made the task seem possible without actually smashing anything. His body had other plans, it seemed, because he dozed off and was woken by the sound of knocking too patient to not seem impatient.

"Knight Rouen," the butler said, his face a mask of politeness. "Lord Seiran and Lady Katherine ask for you to join them for dinner."

Mortified, he stood and pushed the scrolls off the table; parchment spilled all over the floor.

"My bad." Mitsuhide sheepishly collected the fallen items from the ground and placed them back onto the table carefully. The butler looked on passively and yet managed to exude the sense of _you can take the farm boy out of the country but not the country out of the farm boy_ , a look Mitsuhide was intimately familiar with.

Did it not matter that he had lived in a castle for the past eight – almost nine years of his life?

Apparently, it didn't. Sighing, he straightened his shirt, grabbed his scabbard and uniform jacket and followed the butler to the dining room.


	2. II

**II.**

Of the seven children of the Rouen family – a clan neither rich nor royal, neither wealthy nor noble – all seven were boys, and Mitsuhide was the youngest.

Of all his six elder brothers, Mitsuhide had loved Takanari most, but it didn't really matter: they'd been good brothers, all six of them. They had bickered and fought, of course, each other and others and Mitsuhide. But they also had, sometimes mercilessly, but always kind-hearted, _loved_ each other – and, in conclusion, loved him. The little one, the late one, the apple of the eye. They had taught him what they knew – had pushed and prodded and laughed and teased and, sometimes patiently, sometimes less, taken him along. But it had been Takanari – the fourth-eldest, or was it the third-youngest? – who had taught Mitsuhide how to hold a sword. Takanari had returned from the garrison every summer for a few weeks, full of tales and stories, and his little brother had clung to his lips, bursting with pride for his elder brother, the hero. And one summer he returned for the last time, limping and unable to ever run again. But Takanari hadn't lost his humor, or the gentleness that had drawn anyone, including his youngest brother, towards him in the first place. And Mitsuhide –

"I'm going to be the best knight Clarines has ever seen! You'll see, Taka! I'll definitely make you proud!"

Takanari had smiled, and coughed, and then laughed, a little bit, and had mussed his baby brother's hair. "I'm sure you'll be."

Ten years later, he'd been one of Celeg's best: expert swordsman, trained knight, eligible for a rise in the ranks perhaps even to vice captain despite his simple background. And, more than anything: he'd been eligible as a Sword to the Kingdom; and that was where Crown Prince Izana found him.

That was how Mitsuhide Rouen, seventh son of Clarissa and Tomohide Rouen, simple and happy horse breeders and farmers from the Western Plains of Clarines, had found his place in the fabric of the universe.

And his own, small _(large)_ world.

* * *

"You will be leaving early tomorrow, won't you."

At her father's words, Kiki nodded. "Yes. We want to be back in Wistalia by midday."

Mitsuhide, who had never minded when she'd spoken for him in the past, was stuck by how she included him so naturally.

Lord Seiran nodded. "Very well. These were two productive days. I am glad we had the opportunity to talk, daughter."

Kiki smiled at her father, and his heart twisted weirdly. The light of the chandeliers painted shadows onto her face and made her look so alien he, for a second, didn't recognize her. Then the moment passed, and she was Kiki again.

"I am glad, too, Father."

The Lord turned to Mitsuhide, next. "Knight Rouen. I know my daughter and I have left you to your own devices for the past two days. I apologize sincerely. I hope, when you next visit my home, I will be able to entertain you in a manner that is more befitting than this."

"Please do not apologize!" Embarrassed, Mitsuhide shook his head. "You needed to talk to Kik – I mean, Lady Katherine. I understand."

Edward Anthony Seiran watched him with an unreadable expression that was eerily reminiscent of his daughter's; both evaluating and appraising. Mitsuhide lowered his head, not wanting to see the results of the evaluation in the lord's eyes.

"Thank you for honoring this house with your presence." The lord bowed his head a fraction. "You will always be welcome in Evergreen Manor. Thank you, also, for bringing me my daughter. Please give my respects to the Second Prince. I will take my leave here, as I won't see you in the morning due to other engagements. Ride safely, and may your journey be swift."

The blush, he prayed, was hard to see in the light of the dining room. Still, Mitsuhide answered the lord's gaze directly. "Thank you for having me, Mylord."

The lord stood. "Goodnight, Knight Rouen. Daughter."

Kiki smiled back. "Goodnight, Father."

They had, Mitsuhide supposed, said their goodbyes in private already. And Kiki seemed… _lighter._ He had no idea what her father and she had spoken about in the past two days, but it seemed like they had come to an agreement. Mitsuhide didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know so desperately he was ready to flee the hall, as well, and just go back to his quarters _._ As the Lord walked from the room in brisk steps, however, Kiki turned to look at him, and again he was struck speechless by how _unfamiliar_ she looked.

"Mitsuhide?"

"Yes?"

"I asked whether you would like to accompany me for a walk."

Awkwardly, he formed his hands to fists, not knowing what else to do with them.

"If you aren't too tired, that is."

The soft follow-up made him pause, and look at her more directly. Silver hair, dark eyes, no smile on her lips. A dress, yes, but – undeniably: his Kiki. Not Katherine Seiran, just Kiki.

"I am fine," he said, breathing out a knot of _something_ he couldn't put into words and feeling the twist of the first smile that day on his lips. "Where would you like to go?"

"Let me show you something," Kiki said, smiling, and rose from her chair, and Mitsuhide, as always, followed her.

* * *

(The sight of her walking before him, leading him as she always did, would forever be engraved into his memory.)

* * *

There was a garden within the garden.

He hadn't seen it because it was hidden by an almost impenetrable wall of green, a trellis of what he supposed might be or not be jasmine but what certainly smelled sweet enough to be. Behind it, a small alcove curved into a nook of the outer wall; in it stood, sheltered from the wind and the elements, a small, white pavilion. It almost disappeared under the weight of the roses climbing up its sides; in the dim darkness after a hot day, the scent of the flowers was overwhelming. A stone bench ran along the inside walls of the structure, empty but in a state that showed it was being well-kept.

Kiki sat on the bench, and Mitsuhide, after a heartbeat of rising and desperately quenched panic, sat on the opposite side. As it was, the nearness almost took his breath away; the pavilion was open, but it still seemed like a room that was too small to hold both of them at the same time.

"This was my mother's favorite place," she said, quietly, her hand running over one of the closed flower petals. "We used to spend many afternoons here."

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He had never asked what had happened to her mother.

"It is beautiful," he finally settled on, clearing his throat. If she noticed he wasn't looking at the flowers, she didn't show.

"I'm sorry, too," she said, instead, her eyes straying from his again. "My father was right. I asked you to accompany me here, but I left you completely to yourself."

When she lifted her hand, her sleeve caught on a flower branch, and she stopped to untangle it again.

"So annoying," she mumbled, and Mitsuhide suddenly had to suppress laughter.

This was Kiki. This was Kiki and him. Mitsuhide pushed the past days and their direct environment out of his head and focused on her, only, and it was so natural to smile he had to wonder why it had been so hard for the past days.

"It's nothing, really. I wasn't bored at all. Don't worry about it, okay?"

She returned his smile with one of hers, small and secretive. "You are a good person, Mitsuhide."

It made him laugh again. "I am not."

For a while, they were quiet. A bird called in the night, an owl, perhaps. Kiki's fingers were still playing with a flower, her thumb carefully caressing the rose petals. It gave him time to look at her, and to calm his heart.

Tomorrow, they'd be back in Wistalia. Tomorrow, everything would be as usual, a normal day. There would be no awkwardness, no doubt, they would be in a place both of them knew. He would do his work as he always had, would be able to talk to her with the necessary distance. He would be doing something he knew how to do and was good at: protect Zen, help him, be his Sword and his aide. That was what he _could_ do, where he _knew_ who he was and what he did. Tomorrow, Kiki and he would be partners, again, equals, working towards the same goal, side by side, no more and no less –

And then Kiki turned to look at him and asked, very quietly, the words that brought his whole world down:

"What are you going to do, Mitsuhide?"

* * *

They snuck up on him, sometimes. Softly, silently, like the snow falling unto the Western Plains in winter.

Memories _._

Zen had hated him, in the beginning.

It still hurt sometimes, thinking back. He'd so wanted to like the young prince that seemed to be cocky and arrogant on the outside and was so lonely and broken on the inside. He'd really wanted to – but the sting of Prince Izana's rejection had been there, too. And Zen had felt that, immediately, had felt Mitsuhide's unwillingness, his doubts and his resentment. It had taken them both some time: to get used to each other, as much as to get to accept each other. To _trust_ each other. But they had made it, up to a point that even when Zen named Kiki his second Sword, Mitsuhide only felt jealousy up to the moment Kiki proved her ability. Thinking back made him proud: he had come a long way. And, even more so, he was proud of Zen. The child had become a prince, and the prince was rapidly becoming a man. He was kind, patient, strict, just and courageous: what more could he wish for?

Of course, Zen becoming more and more the prince Mitsuhide had always known he would be, one day, had other consequences, as well.

Mitsuhide wasn't ignorant. The former Queen and present queen mother, Haruto, didn't have a Sword by her side anymore, and neither had King Izana. It wasn't custom. It wasn't _necessary._ Soon, Mitsuhide wouldn't be necessary anymore, either.

Kiki's question wasn't earth-shattering, because Mitsuhide had thought it over and over for so many times he had stopped counting. Days, nights, hours after hours. Lying awake in his quarters in Zen's palace wing in Wistalia. Looking at the starry sky at night, out on the open plains, while traveling somewhere and nowhere. Waiting for Zen to finish up meetings with Lords and Ladies or his Royal Brother, the King. Sitting on a hard bed in a tower room in what once had been his home and how was his prison, the missing weight of his sword at his side causing his breath to constrict in his chest painfully.

 _What are you going to do?_

Of course, Kiki would bring it up.

* * *

Mitsuhide could follow Zen to Wilant.

But that was it, wasn't it? He would be _following_ , and doing so without a reason. Zen needed to establish his authority. He needed to show that he was strong and independent, and that he couldn't be pressured by anyone and anything. The Bergatt incident had only proven how fragile their current situation was; how dangerously close they had become. If people trying to influence politics by influencing the Second Prince got a hold of Mitsuhide, they could _hurt_ Zen. And Mitsuhide would rather die than let anything like this happen again.

He could return to Celeg.

But after years of being away from the garrison, it didn't exactly feel like home anymore. Besides, what would he do? He'd be a knight like all the others, but he'd be lacking purpose. He would serve his kingdom, but he would never serve his Prince again.

And going back…

Back to the Western Plains, the endless, grassy hills, the beauty of the open grasslands and the herds of mustangs, heading the cries of the eagle on the wind. A farm house, warm and inviting, a stable that was filled with laughter and the scent of leather and wild stallions. His mother's bread. His brother's laughter. Oh, yes, he could go _back_. But then…

Then.

Mitsuhide never had needed much.

A place to stay. A work to do. A cause he could dedicate himself to, a cause he believed in. It had been the Knights of Celeg, first, and his wish to serve the Crown Prince. Now, it was the Crown Prince's younger brother, Clarines' Second Prince. And Mitsuhide would gladly give Zen everything: his time, his protection, his loyalty and his life.

Some people had kingdoms to protect.

Mitsuhide only had Zen, but it felt like more to him.

 _A world._

Maybe that was why this felt like the end.

 _What are you going to do, Mitsuhide?_

* * *

"Right, Zen will be going to Wilant, won't he? You were right, Kiki, His Majesty really was preparing him."

Mitsuhide chuckled.

"Wilant, huh. That's pretty close to Lyrias. And besides, I bet His Majesty has already made plans for Shirayuki to be working there, too, hasn't he? You can say what you want, in the end, he's always the good guy."

"You were the one who predicted this, Mitsuhide."

"I did? But you agreed."

Kiki inclined her head. "Will you go to Wilant with Zen?"

Sheepishly, he carded his right hand through his hair and let it drop to the back of his neck. "I dunno. Probably?"

Her eyes were black in the darkness. The only light came from the moon, bright and silver in the sky, that shed its eerily cold light onto the small pavilion.

"You cannot be his sword forever."

 _I know,_ he wanted to scream. _Why do you think you have to tell me? I know, dammit –_

Instead, he chuckled. "I know. Sometimes I forget he's already all grown up. I know His Majesty has been preparing him to take over Queen Mother Haruto's position. He's ready, in my opinion."

Kiki nodded, softly. "Yes, he is."

"I guess," Mitsuhide continued on, "that means free time for me, doesn't it? I haven't yet decided what to do. I'll probably go to Wilant, too. Or something." He dropped his hand. "What about you Kiki?"

She didn't answer, so he looked at her.

Her sight took his breath away. It was one thing pretending everything was alright – that everything was normal, that he didn't sometimes look at her and wanted to touch her so badly he could have screamed – and another entirely to see her look at him like _that._

"You know what I will do," she said, her voice so soft he barely heard her over the din of his thundering heart. "My father has been waiting for a long time, now."

"Right." His voice sounded alien to him, far away. "Is that what you have been discussing these last two days?"

"What?" For a second, Kiki looked taken aback, then she caught herself. "Yes. That, and other things. Proposals, too."

"Oh."

He wouldn't ask. At this point, Mitsuhide had come to accept the fact that he wouldn't be able to keep a straight, calm face if the topic turned to Kiki's future husband. Just talking to Hisame Lugis brought him to the limits of his patience, even though Kiki had made explicitly clear that she would never consider the youngest Lugis as her future partner. And still, the ease with which he spoke to her, even touched her, occasionally, had Mitsuhide on the edge of his seat, wanting to jump up and punch the man in the face.

 _Hard._

"So you will return to Evergreen Manor once His Majesty sends Zen to Wilant?"

"Yes." Her simple reply was like a punch to the gut. "I promised my father."

There really wasn't anything he could have answered to that.

A bat swooped past them, low and fast, and disappeared again in the gardens. The scent of the roses was overwhelming, and Kiki leaned forward.

" _Mitsuhide._ What are you going to do?"

And Mitsuhide, lost and lonely and so very, very heartbroken, bowed his head and told her the truth.

"I don't know."

* * *

She was beautiful in the moonlight.

 _Kiki._

It took his breath away.

It wasn't because she was wearing a dress, or because her hair was made up elaborately and with a long, ornamental silver pin whose decorative crystals chimed softly whenever she moved. It wasn't because he knew she could be lethal with a sword, and that they could fight for hours and nobody would best the other. It wasn't because he knew her from morning training, her hair disheveled and sweat on her brow, and had seen her at evening galas, in beautiful dresses and with carefully made-up features. It wasn't because he knew she could trick him into losing a fight – she was as cunning as Zen was – or because he knew she could read him as well as he could read her. Oh, there were so many reasons.

In the end, none of them mattered.

It was just impossible to not remember her tiny smiles, or the way her eyes warmed when she watched Zen and Shirayuki. The grace in her movements. The way her hand could deal blows and serious injuries, and yet would be so gentle when treating an injury. It was –

Impossible.

And ironic, really, because, in a way, this had all foreshadowed clearly, hadn't it? He should have known. He _had_ , even, but he'd been too afraid – too cowardly, too stupid – to see it coming. He'd never considered it, really.

 _What will you do_ , Kiki had asked, _if you ever marry?_

He'd laughed, because to him, it had always been a simple concept.

 _I'll probably marry someone who loves Zen as much as I do._ And they would live in the palace, together, and Mitsuhide would stay with Zen and go with him wherever he needed to go. But they would always come home again.

In hindsight, he could see it: it had been a stupid dream. Or maybe not stupid. Just naïve.

* * *

Sometimes it scared him.

The intensity, the strength of his protective feelings for Zen. Somewhere along the way, the Second Prince had become so much more than just his charge. He'd become his little brother, or perhaps, sometimes, like a son. A fellow soldier. A friend. Mitsuhide would rather die than be unable to protect him.

He _would_ die.

He would die before he'd let anything happen to the Prince.

* * *

(He couldn't die for Kiki.)

* * *

His confession sucked all the oxygen from the little space they were in.

Mitsuhide closed his eyes and tried to will away the images that always waited for him: Zen, laughing, talking to Shirayuki. Discussing with Celeg's captain, arguing with the soldiers. Bowing to King Izana. Zen, working, all his concentration focused on his task.

Zen, accepting Mitsuhide's sword like he knew he was not only holding his weapon but his heart.

Thinking of Zen, because that was easier than –

"You always think of Zen first."

Kiki's words were as quiet as they had been before, but closer. When he opened his eyes she had moved, shifted on the stone bench to sit next to him. Suddenly, she was so close he could imagine feeling her warmth. He retreated a fraction, automatically, and she froze. Something flashed over her face, too fast for him to read, and then was gone.

Suddenly desperate, Mitsuhide searched for a reply but found none.

Kiki's lips twisted, but she didn't smile.

"You'll never marry, you know."

Her change of topic threw him off-balance, had him forget her closeness and her strange expression and had his eyes fly up to meet hers.

"Why do you say that?"

She just looked at him, silver hair and blue-black eyes. "Because you'll never find someone who loves Zen as much as you do."

 _She remembered,_ his love-sick heart sang. _Oh, Kiki. If you only knew._ And: _What about you, Kiki?_

Instead, he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling like being violently ill.

"Maybe."

She paused for a few heartbeats, then continued on. "There's no need for you to stay with Zen any longer."

"I know."

She didn't say: Staying with him could be dangerous for him. She didn't say: This was all your fault, Mitsuhide. She didn't say: It's time. None of it was there. He knew she'd never think that way, and for that, he hated her.

"I _know._ "

Some knights, he knew, dreamed of greatness. Of adventures, battles and glory. Mitsuhide didn't need things like that. He needed a place to stay and a person to protect, a person he could trust and honor. Maybe there was no greatness in being a shadow, but it was something _he could do._ Something that gave him the opportunity to put all he had learned, all he knew, to good use. Was it too much to ask for?

Kiki knew, too, which was why she remained silent.

The calls of night birds and the soft chirping of cicadas was the only sound he could hear.

And then, she said, so quietly he almost missed it: "Come back to Evergreen Manor with me."

* * *

"What did you say?"

She shifted.

To people who didn't know her well, she might have looked like she regretted her words instantly. It was hard to tell, with Kiki. But Mitsuhide had known her for long enough to recognize the tell-tale signs: her left hand grasping her right wrist tightly; the slightly downcast eyes. She wasn't regretting as much as she was _waiting_.

"Come back here with me. Stay."

He was so surprised he laughed. "What, you mean, come and stay with you _here_?"

Her gaze, when she lifted it, was both guarded and evaluating. "Yes."

It made him chuckle, again. "Oh, Kiki, but what would I be _doing_ here? This is your home. I couldn't possibly impose on your hospitality like that."

"You could work."

"As what? In the stables?"

"Would that be so bad?" She asked back, making him consider. She knew him too well. He didn't mind the labor, the manual tasks. He loved horses – he'd grown up with them. But he was a knight, wasn't he? He ought to put that to good use. He could always go back, spend a day doing stable work. But spend the rest of his life with horses?

 _At least they don't leave you_ , a voice in his head said. And was immediately followed by another one: _Except that they do, too._

"But of course you're a knight," Kiki continued, without waiting for his answer. How was it that she always knew what he thought, that she could follow the twisted path of his mind almost better than he could?

"Yes," he said, softly, not feeling like laughter anymore. "I'm a knight."

 _You don't just stop being what you are._

"Could you stay here," Kiki offered, quietly, because that was _what_ _she always did._ "If you were married to me?"

* * *

He had been called dumb before.

But there was a difference between stupidity and naivety. There was a world of differences between stupidity and pretense, too, and Mitsuhide, over the years, had chartered them carefully, had mapped them out and taken notes and put together something that was not quite naivety and not quite pretense. There probably was some denial in there, too, because at some points it would have been impossible to look at Kiki and to continue on as if nothing had happened. But the fact remained that he was anything but stupid, and whoever thought he was was making a grave mistake.

What kicked in now was his first and most important defense: his strategic thinking.

 _(Because everything else would have been unthinkable. Just… impossible.)_

"Come again?" He asked, carefully, and was relieved to hear his own voice sound almost completely neutral.

"Would you stay here if we were married?" Kiki returned, her voice reflecting his business-like tone, and a tiny part of his brain was glad for it.

"If I married you – and that is a large _if_ _–_ I might be able to stay here. But I don't think that will ever happen." Kiki flinched as if he had hit her, and Mitsuhide frowned. "It's unlike you to make hypothetical plans."

Her gaze was unwavering as ever, but her fists were clenched tightly. "Bear with me. Why is it so completely out of option?"

Now, _this_ was easy.

"Because," Mitsuhide said. "Because you are the heiress of the Seiran family and name, rightful heir to Evergreen Manor, and your future partner has to reflect that position. Because you have a dozen and more proposals that your Lord father is seriously considering, and each one of those potential matches has a name and a status that will add to your own. Because the potential partners your father has been looking for are more than simple knights with nothing but their name."

She opened her mouth to say something – he had no idea what, seeing as he was only telling the truth, there was hardly anything she could dispute in _that_ – but he continued on, nevertheless.

"Because, Kiki – because I sure as hell won't marry you so I have a place to live in, or even so you don't have to marry any arrogant bastard that might not look like Hisame Lugis but behaves _exactly_ like him."

In one fluid motion, Kiki stood and walked to the exit of the pavilion.

Against the light of the moon outside, she was a dark silhouette: a few strands had fallen out of her hair-do and curled against her nape. The folds of her dress clung to her curves as she stood there, both hands fisted at her side. For a second, Mitsuhide _wished_ she'd storm off; actually _thought_ she would, despite it being so completely un-Kiki-like. _Hoped_ she would leave without a word, because then, he could give in to the icy sensation coating his feelings like sticky fluid. But she stood there, still as a statue, and then turned around and came back. He had to lean back a bit to look up at her, and suddenly identified the unfamiliar sentiment cursing through him as _resentment_. What was she thinking, offering to officially pity him by making him part of her high-and-mighty family? For all he cared, the Seiran clan could vanish from the face of the earth and he wouldn't miss them.

"You," she told him, her voice hard, "have more integrity and dignity in your little finger than men like Hisame Lugis have in their entire body."

It was hard to stay angry when she threw his words right back in his face by _praising_ him. _Oh, Kiki._ How long would she continue surprising him like that, despite him knowing her so well? How long would it take until he broke?

"It doesn't matter. Kiki, I don't know how you got the idea that you marrying me could be something I wanted to do in order to solve my problems."

She remained standing, her back to him.

"It would make sense. We're already partners. We know each other."

She also wouldn't need to consider other proposals; would be free from suitors wanting her only for her title and wealth. She wouldn't have to worry about her betrothed wanting to interfere with her family's affairs. Mitsuhide could see how this was a good idea, from her point of view. Strangely, the knowledge didn't meet any of the anger he'd felt at the first second anymore. He just felt desperately sad, instead.

"Sorry, Kiki, but I can't marry you. Whether it would be for my sake or for yours doesn't matter. I won't take charity."

 _If I cannot have your heart I do not want your hand._

And wasn't it ironic? He'd been in love with her for so long that this… it felt like his heart was being torn apart. Spending his life with her was a dream, would forever remain one. And here she had offered to do exactly that – but for what reason, what price?

And besides.

Even if she – for some completely incomprehensible reason – actually would have wanted to marry him _for himself_ , he couldn't have married her.

It was impossible.

(He couldn't die for her. But he'd die without her, perhaps, not in the sense of the word but slowly, painfully, bleeding out a bit more every day, disappearing piece by piece until only a shell remained. And that was impossible, _unthinkable_ , he just _couldn't._ He couldn't possibly put her before Zen like that because he had pledged his life to his Prince and marrying her or – the alternative – slowly withering away was the same as being unfaithful, and Mitsuhide would give his life for Zen, only he couldn't imagine a life without _either_ him _or_ Kiki.)

He couldn't take it. If she stood there just one more second, blocking his pathway, he'd –

"It's late," he said, trying to make his smile look as natural as possible. "We're leaving early tomorrow; we should get some rest…"

Kiki didn't move.

"Father said you'd be against it," she whispered, as if talking to herself.

Mitsuhide was floored. "You talked about this _to your father?!_ "

Her answering gaze was as steely as he'd ever seen in their fights, be it the real ones or the training confrontations. "I did."

"You are…" He laughed, breathlessly, because it was better than screaming; carded his hands through his hair. "You are _insane_."

"I like to think I am very sane." As if to contradict her words, her hands twisted into each other, then crept up her wrists and wrapped around her elbows. Mitsuhide had seen Kiki tired, exhausted, ill, angry, sad and elated. He'd never seen her like that _._ It hit him with the force of a battle ship: _Kiki was nervous._

"I don't want you to marry me because I need a husband and I already know you. I don't want to marry you because I pity you. I said you'd never marry, because you would never find someone who loves Zen as much as you do. I meant it. There's nobody who loves Zen like you do, Mitsuhide, not even I. Do you know why?"

Her eyes were hard and soft at the same time.

"Do you know _why_?"

He shook his head, at a loss, so she continued.

"Because the person I love most is you, Mitsuhide."

* * *

 _A memory:_

"Why did you name your horse Solitaire?"

Two years into their partnership, two years since he'd jumped in between Lugis and the woman he barely knew but already respected more than the man who would be vice-captain of the garrison. Two years since she'd allowed herself to rely on him. Two years since Mitsuhide had, reluctantly at first and then more and more easily, accepted her as a part of their lives – his and Zen's lives, to be precise.

"No special reason, why?"

"I just…" She hesitated, stopped. Sighed. And Mitsuhide tracked the thoughts flashing behind her dark-blue eyes helplessly, unable to read them but completely and utterly captivated.

"It suits you," she finally said, exhaling softly.

"You mean, it suits him," he corrected, but Kiki shook her head.

"No, it suits you."

And left him standing in the stables, dumb-struck and confused and, for some mysterious reason, strangely elated.

* * *

"You – _what?_ "

Not particularly intelligent, but at this point he was glad his voice, at least, was still working.

"I love you," she repeated, as if the words he had been struggling with for so many years now could be as easily said as that. "When I said I'd propose to the person I wanted as my future husband myself, almost three years ago, I meant you. When Zen asked who I meant after you reported it to him, I told him it was you. When my father asked me what I wanted to do now, how I wanted to deal with the aftermath of the Bergatt treason and Zen's imminent dispatch to Wilant, I told him I wanted to return and marry you. He told me you'd take it as an act of charity, and would refuse. But it has always been you, Mitsuhide."

She dropped to her knees right there, in her beautiful dress, on the stone floor of the moonlit pavilion in front of him. She wasn't as tall as he was, so with her kneeling in front of him he actually had to look down to meet her eyes.

"It's not supposed to be the solution to all your troubles. It will, most assuredly, cause you even larger trouble. It's selfish of me to ask you, I know, and I'm sorry. But I needed you to understand that this is not an act of charity, Mitsuhide, I swear."

He stared, too overwhelmed to think. Too overwhelmed to _feel_ anything.

"You are saying-"

"I love you."

Mitsuhide felt himself shake his head in denial. His voice, when it came out, was rough and broken, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could say anything.

"That's…"

It was in her eyes. It would always be, forever, and he was at a loss how other people couldn't see it. It was her eyes that gave her away, again and again: Kiki might seem calm and mildly expectant on the outside, but she was _terrified._ Nothing pointed at it except, perhaps, for the way she was deliberately relaxing her hands, but Mitsuhide _knew._ And he also knew she was telling the truth; because Kiki, while she might do so to others for certain reasons, would never lie to him or Zen.

His hands were reaching out to her before he could form a conscious thought. He snatched them back before he could do anything stupid, pressed the heels of his hands onto his eyes instead until he saw bursts of light explode behind his closed eye lids, but he couldn't erase the image of her kneeling on the ground in front of him, offering herself up to him like that.

"Please get up," he said, hoarsely, and, when she made no attempt to stand, slid down off the bench to kneel on the ground, as well. He hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his knees and up into his spine, but he ignored it.

"Kiki…"

What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to even _feel_?

"I don't know what to say," he admitted, half-ashamed, half-exhausted. "I…" So terribly, terribly fed-up of silent glances and desperate thoughts, of wishes, of telling himself it could never be. So desperately in love with the one woman he could never have, because he couldn't leave Zen, even if his Prince didn't need him anymore. Because he had neither the name nor the status to measure up to hers, nothing to offer to her. Because, even if she agreed to marry him, he would have to decide between her and Zen, and that was a decision he couldn't make.

"I can't marry you, Kiki."

 _Impossible._

But she had gifted him the truth, and he could do at least that for her, too.

Mitsuhide's head fell forward slightly, and so did hers, until they met in the middle. His forehead touched hers and he could feel her warmth, the soft exhalation of her breath on his skin. Her nearness alone was intoxicating.

"I love you, too," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I have for a long time."

* * *

There was nothing left to be said, so they didn't speak.

They didn't move apart, either.

When Kiki started shivering after some time – the night was cool, and the stone floor was, too – he stood, and drew her up with him, as well. She stumbled – his legs didn't feel too steady, either – and in the spur of a moment did something he would never have dreamed of doing had this been a normal day, a normal time. Sliding his arms under her shoulders and knees, carefully, Mitsuhide lifted Kiki up, adjusted her weight, carefully, and started their way back to the manor.

On any other day, Kiki would have killed him.

But she just sighed, softly, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hiding her face against his chest.

And despite the dull, pulsating ache somewhere in his chest region, despite the exhaustion and desperation and mental strain they both had put themselves through, despite the glimpse of his very bleak, very dark future – despite everything and more, Mitsuhide felt a tiny warmth blossom inside his chest at the trust she was showing him.

That she had taken down her protective armor to the degree that she would allow him to carry her was more than he ever could have asked for.

 _I love you so, so much._

The next day, they left Evergreen Manor and returned to Wistalia.


	3. III

**III.**

Zen Skye Wistalia, Second Prince of Clarines, Crown Prince of the Realm, prospective Ruler of Castle Wilant and yada yada yada, was in a good mood.

The morning briefing he had been forced to attend by Lord Haruka first thing the day had been less boring than expected, and he had even managed to suggest some constructive changes the Lords had not immediately and outright rejected. He'd then talked to the stable master – now that Shirayuki could ride, it would only be appropriate for her to have her own horse. (Mitsuhide's black stallion had tried to bite him, the blasted beast, he'd never warmed up to the animal that was so calm and attentive when Mitsuhide was close, but he'd managed to save his hand, so he had that going for him.) Obi had dropped in sometime in between, obnoxious and entertaining as usual, and had brought Zen a dinner invitation from Shirayuki.

"Go see her yourself the next time. I'm not your messenger, Your Highness," the shinobi groused, and Zen grinned.

"In fact, that's exactly what you _are_ , in case you forgot." He pointed at his sigil on the identification tag Obi was wearing around his neck. "It's written on there, remember? And how should I know when Shirayuki wants to see me if nobody tells me?"

Kiki, who had been a silent shadow at his side all day – it was so good to have her back, both her and Mitsuhide – snorted quietly, and Obi pressed a hand to his heart.

"You are beautiful today, Lady Kiki, like always, and your coldness only makes you prettier. How does Mitsuhide cope with that?"

And Zen – Zen laughed, and felt _so relieved._

It had been so long.

So long that they had been together – _really_ together, _all_ of them, Shirayuki and Zen and Mitsuhide and Kiki and Obi. All five of them, four of the six people Zen loved most in the world, people he would gladly give his life for.

And the day was beautiful, sunny and warm, and the Lords were off his back for the next two weeks, and there was only little work that needed to be done due to the administrative summer break. He'd do some reading in the afternoon – break or not, some things needed to be done, and he had to write to his mother – and would spend some time with Shirayuki. And Mitsuhide would have some things to say about Zen's performance in Celeg, he was absolutely sure, so there would be some sparring training in his immediate future, as well. But hey, they had survived Touka Bergatt's grasp for power, Mitsuhide had been cleared of all charges, Obi and Kiki were fine and Shirayuki was back in Wistalia, even if she would have to go back to Lyrias presently.

The world was in perfect order again, the birds sang prettily and the summer sun rose high, and Prince Zen of Clarines was in a good mood.

That was, he was having a good day until his Royal Brother, King Izana, First of his name, Ruler of Clarines and all the Western Plains, Protector and Servant and yada yada all over again, "asked" him to come see him.

* * *

"What is it that you want to discuss with me?"

Izana had cut his hair again. It hung down past his ears and onto his shoulders in a golden curtain; it made him look both softer and harder. Zen didn't know whether Queen Haki had something to do with the way her husband styled his hair, but he still _wondered_.

Izana wasn't the type of man who would let a woman decide on anything in his life. Haki didn't seem like the type of woman who would let anything slide. Zen suspected a long, complex and _very_ intriguing background story.

"You're so impatient, Zen. No greeting for your brother and King?"

Zen swept into the ceremonial greeting, his knee touching the ground and his head lowering to his knees, and looked up from the ground. "I salute you, Your Majesty."

Izana – laughed. Or, at least, grinned, and Zen felt a smile tug at his lips, as well. "One day, your insolence will come back to bite you, brother. Rise."

"I am a model of politeness. Just ask Kiki."

The king snorted. "As if she'd be any less loyal to you than Mitsuhide."

Behind Zen, Kiki stood at attention, stiff and formal. He nodded at her and waved a dismissal, and she left the room soundlessly.

Yes, they were more than loyal, both Kiki and Mitsuhide. Zen knew that, from the bottom of his heart. He also knew whom he had to thank for having Mitsuhide, in the first place. And maybe Izana understood – they were brothers, after all – because he just smiled, and Zen felt like he was six years old and crying in his elder brother's room because he couldn't lift a sword long enough to practice. He cleared his throat.

"I don't expect you requested my presence because you wanted to talk about my aide's loyalty?"

* * *

"Man!"

Zen was already loosening his collar not even ten meters away from the grand double door to the throne room. He loved his brother, he really did – he respected and admired him, and he'd pledge his loyalty to him again every hour of every day. But Izana had a way of getting under his skin that he wasn't sure of whether it was intentional or not. Either way, it worked every. Single. Time.

At least he'd stopped using Shirayuki as bait…

"He's really perfected that carrot and stick game, hasn't he."

Mitsuhide, who apparently, sometime during Zen's audience with his brother, had switched with Kiki, smiled good-naturedly. Zen shot him a disgruntled glare.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." His aide said it with an undertone that implied _everything_ , and Zen felt the childish urge to elbow his oldest friend in the ribs. The elder man saw, or maybe they just had been around each other long enough to read each other pretty well, because he gave Zen the _look_ and continued. "Kiki predicted this."

"She did?" Zen said, and then his grin turned into a frown as he saw the smile slipping off Mitsuhide's face slowly.

He nodded, almost hastily, as if to conceal his own slip.

"He's been grooming you for a position like that since his coronation."

Zen's glance dove into the distance, away from the palace corridor, back to a perfect day. The weight of the Royal Crown in his hands, the ceremonial words… Izana standing there, every inch the ruler. It had been…

"Anyway, on the more pressing matter of your anniversary today…"

"My… what?" Zen stopped, dead, jolted back into the present with a jarring drop. The numbers in his head started shuffling at breathtaking speed. " _Anniversary_!? Oh, crap –"

"Anniversary. Yours. And Shirayuki's."

"Oh, crap, crap, Obi gave me the invitation –"

Mitsuhide cleared his throat. "Shirayuki is waiting in your shared wing. She made dinner, and you sent her flowers."

"Flowers?" Zen glared at Mitsuhide. "She sees flowers every day!"

"And she still loves it when you give them to her," Mitsuhide said, calmly and with his Reasonable Voice. "Besides, you have something else to give her, anyway."

The Prince shot his Sword a look of wounded betrayal. "You know, I expected this from Obi, but not from you…"

"What?" Mitsuhide gave him a friendly smile. "You didn't say you wanted to be reminded."

"Yes, but – five years!"

And this time, Zen _looked_ at Mitsuhide. Anyone who didn't know him well would have missed the twist to his lips that spoke of years of gentle prodding, sometimes violent but effective shoving, a certain amount of force and an ocean of understanding, acceptance and gentleness this man had been for Zen. He knew his Sword long enough, now, to realize that something was brewing. He just couldn't put his finger on it, not _quite_ , there was something missing here…

But for now, there was something else to do first.

They were going to have A Talk as soon as possible, Zen promised Mitsuhide, wordlessly.

"Zen!"

Shirayuki's hair glowed in the evening sun, and, as always, Zen's world came to a jarring halt at her side, paused for a heart-beat and then began turning again, revolving around her and her only.

 _Soon._

He barely noticed Mitsuhide closing the doors behind him quietly.

* * *

He had missed her terribly, those last two years.

All the days and nights that they had been apart – it had been a challenge, a fight every day not to jump onto his horse and to visit her in Lyrias. Even the few times they had seen each other in between – the Royal Gala, the short intermissions – hadn't been _enough._ Zen had missed her with every fiber of his being, and he hadn't even realized how much until he had seen her again after the Bergatt thing, standing in the library as if she'd never been gone.

 _Zen._

He could still hear her voice, calling out for him.

It was almost surreal to have her close enough to see her every day, much less close enough to touch her whenever he wanted to.

(Not that he did touch her whenever he wanted to. It was hard, but he'd learned discipline, at least. Mitsuhide would be ecstatic that some of his lectures had actually _stuck.)_

It felt like a dream: being able to sit at the same table, with Shirayuki, to watch her eat and smile and laugh. Listen to her telling him little things of her day – about Ryuu, who had stayed behind in Lyrias, about the letters and herbs and plants she had brought for the Head Apothecary, about the colors in Wistalia that were so much more lively than in Lyrias, while the snow had a million different colors in the City of Tents. Zen almost had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"What are you thinking about?" Shirayuki asked, and he told her, honestly, "About you, and how beautiful you are," and she blushed adorably and ducked her head.

Zen had wanted to wait.

He had wanted to talk to Mitsuhide and Kiki first, had wanted to take some time to prepare his words, and his mind. But Shirayuki was smiling at him, and he was relaxed and the food tasted great and she _was so beautiful_. It broke out of him, like water from a dam.

"I need to tell you something."

As usual, her first reaction was to smile and wait, patiently, and he loved her for it.

"His Majesty is sending me to Wilant."

Shirayuki's smile turned into a dismayed expression which she tried to hide again as quickly as possible. He loved her for that, too. Gods above, he was hopeless. "You mean, you have to leave again tomorrow?"

Zen blinked. "No, not tomorrow. Wait. I mean, I am supposed to take the responsibility over the Northern Territories, the position my mother has been holding for the past years."

He could see the understanding dawn in her eyes. "You mean, you'd be the governor? And you'd live at Castle Wilant?"

He nodded, and, enchanted, watched her face.

Shirayuki covered her mouth with both her hands. "The Head Apothecary is sending me to Wilant, to be the Apothecary in charge."

Zen grinned. "I know."

"You do?"

"Izana told me." Zen couldn't contain his happiness anymore. It propelled him off his chair and over to her side of the table, where he dropped to his knees next to her.

"Let's go to Castle Wilant, Shirayuki. Let's live there, okay?"

"You mean, we'd be together again?" There were tears in her eyes, and he reached up to cup her cheek and wipe them away.

" _Yes_."

And in true Shirayuki fashion, she dropped from her chair and wrapped her arms around him, laughing and weeping at the same time.

* * *

When her door closed behind her, Zen stood in front of it for a few seconds and just _breathed._ How could it be that he was so happy, he wondered, how could that much happiness be granted to a person?

What had he done to deserve her?

She still loved him, even after all those years. She wanted to go to Wilant with him. She wanted to _live_ with him. It was… it was humbling, to be the recipient of her love and devotion. It was breathtaking. It was _everything._

"Please don't tell me you're going to start serenading below her window," a dry voice said from behind him. "Cause you sure look like you want to."

When Zen turned around, Mitsuhide was there, leaning against the wall. He was a dark shadow against the white stone, familiar and unmistakable.

"How long have you been there?" Zen asked back, not deigning the comment with an answer.

"Long enough." A heavy arm draped around his shoulders and pressed down, and Zen stumbled. "Congratulations, Zen. I'm happy for the two of you."

"Get off me!"

Mitsuhide pulled him close for a second, then let him go with a laugh.

"You should go to bed. It's late."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Kiki has the morning shift, but I can be there."

They had reached Zen's room, and Mitsuhide turned to leave while Zen opened the door and set a foot inside. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Good night."

"Night," Zen said and closed the doors.

* * *

Zen sat up in the middle of the night, propelled out a dream he couldn't remember.

Mitsuhide's laugh had been strained.

Not faked. Not like he wasn't happy for them. Just... sad.

"You have to talk to them," Shirayuki had said, just hours before.

"They're part of your circle. If you're going to Wilant, they have to know. Didn't Kiki only have a certain amount of time left? I guess she'll be returning to her family's estate. What about Mitsuhide?"

Somehow, all of this had passed his mind completely.

* * *

The next day came with an equally beautiful morning.

Shirayuki crossed his path in the hallway, bright and beautiful, and Zen almost – _almost –_ forgot the worry creeping up his spine and twining around his heart like poisonous ivy. She made him smile – she always did, didn't she? – and he invited her along, and she agreed.

Next, he let Mitsuhide beat him in their morning training – both verbally and physically.

Kiki, Obi and Shirayuki watched from the side of the training hall as Mitsuhide put Zen through a barrage of sparring and corrections, plus all the hits and bruises he received because he was too slow and Mitsuhide was too good. As he ducked under his aide's flashing sword, desperately trying to find an opening to go from being in the defensive to a more offensive style, he wondered: how had he not been able to see this the day before?

How had he not thought of this? Because it was so obvious.

Kiki seemed to know what he was thinking, because she was looking at him with an intensity that would have made him shiver in fear had he not known her for such a long time already.

"It's fine, Mitsuhide. I'm alright."

Mitsuhide's arms were too tense, and his eyes too desperate; and Zen pretended not to see it and suggested breakfast for all of them.

"What is going on here?" Obi asked after Shirayuki had taken her leave to meet with the Head Apothecary. Mitsuhide and Kiki both did not answer Zen's gaze.

"Nothing that concerns you," Zen said, dismissive. "By the way, Obi, would you mind…?"

Obi didn't mind running an errand.

"Mitsuhide, your shift begins in the afternoon, right?"

Mitsuhide got up stiffly. "I'll see you then."

He himself, Zen noticed, wasn't the only person that was watching Mitsuhide walk away.

* * *

"Kiki," Zen said after they finally were alone in his office, and made no attempt to begin with the few folders – courtesy to Lord Haruka – that someone had put on his desk. Some summer break this was turning out to be. "This time I'll ask you for a report."

She looked unfazed, as if she had expected this. (She probably had.)

"My father and I have discussed in length about how the transition of power from him to me should take place, and we agreed that it would be best if you could issue a statement, officially freeing me from my duty as your Second Sword. My father will relinquish most of the power of the head of the family to me, including the Seiran's rights to attend the Council's meeting and hold a vote, he himself will retain certain veto rights in regard to my decisions and will act as my official advisor. I am to return as soon as you leave for Wilant."

Listening to anyone else report on these circumstances with the kind of detached a voice she used would have made Zen angry. Kiki was talking about leaving – leaving _him_ , leaving _them_ – as if it was something she did easily, even after years of being together. With Kiki, though, he knew: it wasn't that she didn't _feel_ anything. Even more: when she resorted to this kind of observational style she was so close to the subject that she couldn't help herself, the distance she so carefully put between herself and things and people she cared about probably had served her well in the past. However, because he _knew_ her, Zen could hear the undertone of _something_ in her voice that she couldn't completely conceal.

Quietly, he asked: "Are you alright with that, Kiki?"

She didn't turn her head away, but she refused to meet his eyes as she nodded. "Yes."

Zen tapped his fingers on the desk top, thinking. "What did Lord Seiran say on the topic of the Bergatt treason and your involvement?"

Her face closed down almost instantly. "My father is of the opinion that the first thing to do is to separate ourselves from the Second Prince, to protect both your and our interests."

"That's certainly a way."

This, too, was what Zen had been thinking of the past few days. It had been easier going over it without having Kiki and Mitsuhide close, but that had felt like a betrayal. It _was_ , wasn't it? The only way to stop the same events from occurring again would be to separate himself completely from both Kiki and Mitsuhide. On the other hand, nobody could guarantee that there wouldn't be other puppets that could be used to get at Zen: Obi, for example, had been used before. And Shirayuki – Zen shivered. He didn't even want to think about what might happen if anyone tried to use _Shirayuki_ against him.

"Is that why he is recalling you as soon as I depart for Wilant?"

"Yes." Kiki nodded. Then, her face cleared slightly. "But, I need you to know that I agree with him on the issue. I have already been staying with you longer than initially planned, and there is still a lot I have to learn before I can lead my family in a manner that will be fitting. His Majesty sending both you and Shirayuki to Wilant…" She smiled, minutely, and Zen couldn't help but smile back. "It's proof that you're now walking your own path, Zen. You don't need me anymore."

Zen leaned back, touched. "Kiki…"

She lifted her hand. "Wait. I need to tell you this."

He remained quiet, so she continued.

"When I came here for the first time I had taught myself to live all on my own, to only trust myself. I thought it was a weakness, accepting help from someone else. _Needing_ others." Kiki spoke the words slowly, as if she needed to make sure of their taste on her tongue. "You showed me that relying on others is not a weakness, you and Mitsuhide. You have shown me trust and loyalty, and have given me things I would otherwise never have gotten to know. I'll be forever grateful for that."

When she looked at him, her grey eyes were smiling. "It's not only you who has grown."

It made him laugh. "Of course not. I'm glad you feel that way, Kiki. But do you really have to leave?"

She held his gaze unwaveringly. "Yes. It is time for you to go out there and prove to Izana that you're capable of everything he expects of you, and of a lot more he might not yet expect. And it's time for me to prove the same to my father. You will excel. I can only hope the same for myself."

She wasn't tall, never had been. Still, when she sat still and straight, Zen had the feeling Kiki took up much more space than she should have. It was in her face: the expressive eyes, the determined tilt of her lips. From the first moment Zen had met her, he'd known she was an intriguing person who would rather break than bend. And she had proven that. She'd always been strong, but it had been a fragile strength.

It wasn't, not anymore.

"I will miss you, Kiki."

"You won't have time for that. You'll have to get settled in Wilant. And besides." The smile lit up her eyes. "We'll see each other. I will have to mingle at evening galas and Council meetings, and so will you. No more hiding away for either one of us."

It made him laugh, again. "I will be looking forward to it. And, Kiki…"

"Yes?"

"What about your proposal? Did you inform Lord Seiran about your decision?"

What happened next scared him. Her face closed up within seconds, a flower in full bloom dying gracefully in front of his eyes. Her lifeless eyes didn't match the content of her words.

"He had strong objections, but in the end, he was appeased."

"He is a reasonable man. There aren't many people like – wait, why do I hear a _but_?"

When Kiki didn't answer, he sighed, dropping his head on the table.

"Let me guess. It's not your father who is the problem, but the other party?"

Her silence was answer enough.

"But why?! I don't understand. He obviously loves you, why doesn't he want to marry you?"

The same weariness that had been in Mitsuhide's steps now seemed mirrored in Kiki's tired shrug.

"That's it." Zen jumped up from his chair, ready to bolt out of the door. "I'm talking to him right now."

Kiki calling out his name made him stop. "Zen. Wait. I don't think you should be the one to talk to him about – about him and me."

He stopped, once again surprised at both the defeat in her shoulders and the intensity of the plea in her eyes. "Whyever not?"

She shrugged, again, and it was clear now that she was hiding something from him. "You're not telling me something."

"Does it matter?" She asked back. "He won't marry me. I can't force him to do it."

"But he loves you! You love him!"

She closed her eyes, for a second, her hands forming a fist and relaxing again. "Sometimes that's just not enough, I guess."

Hearing her pain so obvious in every word that she had not said, seeing it in the lines on her face and in the defeated slant of her shoulders, Zen vowed to find his useless First Sword, grab him and shake him until his reason had been restored again. In the name of everything that was holy, _what was Mitsuhide thinking_?

"Master!"

Obi dropped in through the window, as usual, making Zen start badly and Kiki just pull up one eye brow artfully. No trace of the things he had read on her face just seconds ago was mirrored there anymore.

"Obi, how many times did I tell you…"

"Oh, but this way I save the time I would spend by knocking and waiting for an answer!"

Zen massaged his temples, as usual unable to argue against his messenger's logic. He couldn't suppress a smile, either. "What is it, Obi?"

"The Captain of the Guard says he can see you now, Master."

It seemed like Mitsuhide would be able to live a little longer, then.

* * *

Shirayuki's first word when he saw her that afternoon was his name.

"Zen!" She lit up at his sight, her hair and her eyes and her smile so beautiful it made him swallow.

"Shirayuki."

And she blushed at her name. It was adorable.

When they had found a quiet corner to sit, she leaned towards him, her eyes smiling but her lips serious.

"I had an audience with your brother today."

Zen leaned back and sighed. "He didn't tell me he wanted to talk to you, too."

Shirayuki laughed. "He's not that bad, Zen." A second of hesitation, and then: "Though he still scares me a bit."

"What did he want?"

"He asked me the same question again."

"What you think you can do to stay at my side?" His throat felt dry, suddenly.

"Yes." She leaned towards him a little bit more and took his hand. "And I told him."

Zen couldn't help himself: he leaned towards her, too, until their foreheads touched, his heart in his throat. "So you know now?"

"Yes." She giggled softly. "I'm just an apothecary. But I have helped you a lot in the past, and I will do my best to do so in the future. I have studied the arts of healing and of herbs and plants. I can do good in a castle full of people. I might not be able to replace an actual surgeon, but I know people, now, and I will continue to learn. I can grow crops, or advise people on how to handle them. I can do many things, I can _help_. And I want stay by your side however long you want me to."

This could have been his cue. This could have been the moment – it certainly had all the elements he thought it should have, and Shirayuki was smiling so widely – but there were other things to do, first. Besides, a vital part was in his room, in the bottom drawer, hidden away under his old riding clothes –

"Do you know how glad I am that fate took me over the wall of that empty villa at the border of Tanbarun six years ago?" He asked her, instead, and received a brilliant smile.

"I love you, too."

As the heat flushed into his cheeks Zen found himself sputtering, unable to answer in any coherent manner. And Shirayuki, the little – she blushed, too. But she laughed.

He couldn't help but laugh with her, and then, he kissed her.

* * *

The castle was quiet, at night.

It always had been the silence that Zen had loved most, the dim light from the few lanterns lighting the hallways. The shadows – he'd never been afraid of the shadows, only ever of people – and the echoing steps of servants or soldiers hurrying past in the distance were a song in itself. If one knew the castle, one could spend the entire night out in the corridors and on the walkways without meeting one single other person. He knew, he had done it before.

But that was not the point, today.

"What are you doing?"

Zen could imagine Mitsuhide's mild surprise – after all, around this time, he usually went to bed – but he also knew that Mitsuhide was rarely surprised by his actions anymore. They'd known each other for more than ten years, now, so nothing Zen did really could faze his Sword.

"Sneaking up on you."

This, at least, caused the taller man to arch his eye brows. "You are sitting on a window sill. What kind of sneaking is that?"

Zen grinned, quickly, and dropped the smile again. Standing, he brushed some dust off his trousers and looked at Mitsuhide. "I need to talk to you."

Almost instantly, Mitsuhide's open face closed up. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? You must be tired."

"No."

"I have to be up early…"

The fact that Mitsuhide still objected was glaringly obvious proof at how much he _did not_ want this conversation to take place.

"Don't make me give you an order. Come with me."

It was supposed to be a joke, to lighten the mood. It was the wrong thing to say. Blue eyes turned icy in a heartbeat, cold and hard.

"Lead the way, Your Highness."

Zen did, berating himself silently.

They ended up in the training hall, because that was closest and most familiar place to Zen. He'd spent so many hours in it – training, training, later sparring with Mitsuhide and Kiki and even with Izana, sometimes – that its high ceilings and open walls were comforting, despite the unfamiliar darkness and the shadows. He sat down on the window sill and Mitsuhide stood, against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Zen couldn't remember a time when his friend's face had been so closed before: usually, everything Mitsuhide thought and felt could be seen right there. It was as if the privacy screen so many people used – the masks, the fake smiles and unfazed expressions – had gone right past Mitsuhide. Or maybe he had regarded them and discarded them as useless? It would have been just like him. Now, however, there was nothing to be read in his face.

"Mitsuhide…"

His aide didn't answer, and Zen sighed. "Go ahead, yell at me."

That seemed to bring him out of his shell, at least a little. "Huh? Why? What have you done?"

Squinting, Zen looked up. "I'm a bad friend, am I not?"

"Rubbish!" Mitsuhide looked upset. "Who said that? He's wrong."

The open, sincere honesty made him smile. "I said that. I should have noticed this earlier, but Shirayuki had to tell me. And Kiki, I guess."

Had he not watched Mitsuhide closely from the corner of his eyes, he would have missed him flinching minutely at Kiki's name. Zen made a snap decision, hoping to God that it was the right one.

"Okay, let's be straightforward. You've been tense since you and Kiki came back from Evergreen Manor. I thought it was the last vestiges of what happened in Celeg, but I'm starting to suspect it's not. It's more. What's wrong, Mitsuhide? Is something bothering you?"

His aide stared for a split second and then opened his mouth to respond, and Zen felt all his suspicions crystallize.

"And _don't_ try to lie to me, or to weasel out of this! I need to know what is going on."

Mitsuhide had never refused to tell him anything. Mitsuhide never had kept secrets from him. Zen wasn't stupid – he knew there were things his aide wasn't telling him, things about his past or his thoughts on certain Lords, or even things about Zen himself. But that had never mattered, because the things he had said had always been entirely, completely honest. And he had never refused to answer Zen's questions before. He had never closed himself off like this. It… it hurt.

Zen never before had ordered Mitsuhide anything he hadn't been willing to do out of his own volition.

"I…"

 _Zen never before had ordered Mitsuhide anything he hadn't been willing to do out of his own volition._

"WAIT!"

He exploded, angrier at himself than he could ever say. "No, wait, Mitsuhide, this is wrong, I am an idiot! I can't force you to tell me what's bothering you. Oh God, I almost _did_. I'm sorry, don't say anything!"

Mitsuhide stared. And then stared some more, and then, slowly, painfully slowly, a smile appeared on his face. Tiny and almost completely overshadowed, but _real._ Awed, Zen leaned back, unsure of what to expect.

"Zen, you must be the worst Prince of all times. Stick to your orders, will you?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"You started it," Mitsuhide returned, almost cheerily enough to pass as _there's nothing, really._ But only _just._

"Yeah, well. Stupidest idea of the century. I'm sorry." Zen stood, and turned towards the doors of the hall. Guilt was still churning in his stomach, mixing with red-hot anger at himself. "Please forget about this. I'll see you tomorrow."

Before he could leave, Mitsuhide's hand shot out and held his elbow.

"Zen."

"Yeah?"

He didn't expect it. He really didn't, he expected Mitsuhide to ask something in regard to his schedule tomorrow, to comment on something, to … whatever. He didn't expect Mitsuhide to look at him with eyes that were half terrified and half determined, and to hear him say the words he had been thinking for the past day.

"You are right. We need to talk."

Zen hadn't expected this, honestly not. But he just dropped back onto the window sill, felt the cool glass against his back. Mitsuhide still was standing, his fists tightly closed, but some of the horrible coldness in his face was gone.

"Okay."

And Mitsuhide, without turning around and looking at him, asked: "Will you take me to Castle Wilant with you?"

"Of co-"

To Zen, this question was a no-brainer, a rhetorical question. There was no need to answer, because _of course_ Mitsuhide would come to Wilant with him. Whyever not? He was Zen's sword and aide, and, when it came to if, bodyguard and advisor. During all the time that he had asked himself what Izana was up to, and then, even after he had gotten to know, there had never been a question in his mind as to what Mitsuhide would do.

They had been together for the past – nine? Ten? – years.

For Zen, Mitsuhide was as much as fixture to his life than the sun was to the day and the moon to the night.

But maybe Mitsuhide wanted to be somewhere else?

 _Oh._

 _Oh, Heavens._

In all his time with his aide, Zen never had thought about whether Mitsuhide would stay with him forever.

The thought was – it was – it was _unthinkable_.

So Zen forced himself to think of it.

"Except… if you don't want to go." The words stuck to his throat like glue, not wanting to be spoken. Each word said out loud became real. "Except, if you want to stay here and – serve Izana – or go back to Celeg – or –"

It was there, suddenly.

"Stay with Kiki. Oh, Fates, Kiki is going back – she told me – _Mitsuhide_ , did you tell her you wouldn't marry her _because you felt you had to come to Wilant with me?!_ "

Mitsuhide looked as stricken as Zen felt. He didn't even blush, and that was _enough_. "She told you?"

Zen jumped up, unable to sit still. His hand, automatically, went to his sword hilt, and then he realized he had left his weapon in his bedroom. His hands went up into his hair, instead.

"You told her – that's – but of course, there are three days of riding between the Plains and Wilant, I couldn't possibly expect – _why haven't I thought of this before?"_

Yes, why hadn't he? It was stupid. It was naïve and immature, and, worst of all: selfish. He'd been so happy to have his aides back and Shirayuki and Obi, so glad they'd all be together, and he'd so naturally expected Mitsuhide to stay by his side, that he'd completely forgotten all the implications this change he was so looking forward to would mean for the other people in his life. He needed to – he had to – he couldn't do – but _Shirayuki_ – why hadn't Izana told him – and Kiki and Mitsuhide –

" _Zen."_

Mitsuhide's voice was calm and grounding, his hand on Zen's shoulder anchoring him to the ground as it had so many times before.

"Calm down. It's going to be alright."

He was thinking himself into a frenzy, as usual. And, as usual, Mitsuhide stopped him. Zen couldn't help the burning in his eyes at the thought that one day, his best friend wouldn't be by his side anymore.

He took a deep breath.

"Don't come to Wilant with me. Go and marry Kiki."

Mitsuhide shrank. Literally. His shoulders curved in on himself, his head ducked down. "If you don't want me to come-"

"No! Heavens." Zen fumbled, then grabbed Mitsuhide by the shoulders and looked straight at him. "We need to make something clear, okay? I _want_ you with me. Always. You've been there every day for the last ten years of my life, and I would gladly have you with me for the next fifty. I don't care what Lord Haruka says, the tradition of assigning a Sword to a Prince only until he is of age is crap. Does the danger go away after one turns 21? I never once thought of leaving you behind when going to Wilant." He swallowed. "But if you don't want to stay my aide, you could do something else in Wilant. I talked to the captain of the palace guard and he says I could bring my own captain to head the Wilant castle guard. Or, if you don't want to come at all…" Even the mere thought freakin' _hurt._ "I'm sure my brother would welcome you into his guard. You always wanted to serve Izana. And Wistalia and the Plains aren't so far apart, you could see Kiki often. You could actually marry her, you'd be stupid not to, you are perfect for each other –"

Mitsuhide's face was eerily empty.

"You would actually take me to Wilant as your Sword?" He asked. His voice was alien, too.

Zen nodded. "Yes, or-"

"You would let me protect you?"

"Of course-"

"They will use me. Against you. They've done it before."

"You won't let them. You didn't, this time. It wasn't your fault, Mitsuhide."

Zen would repeat this as often as it took to get him to believe it, too.

"I _can't_. Not if it compromises your safety."

"How often did you protect me from threats before? It by far weights up the one occasion that you couldn't. Don't be silly, Mitsuhide. Mistakes happen."

Mitsuhide turned away, sharply, and took a deep breath. And Zen felt it: he was giving up. _Mitsuhide was giving up._ Victory tasted sweet, mixed with bone-deep relief that had him feeling like he was floating. Mitsuhide would stay with him.

"But traditions-"

"Do I look like I _care_ about traditions?"

It would have made Mitsuhide laugh, every other day. Today, it just made him sigh, and chuckle, weakly.

"Oh, Zen. You're really the worst prince of all times."

Somehow, that didn't feel like an accusation. And it completely left Zen's mind a second later, because Mitsuhide turned back again and drew his blade. It flashed in the moonlight, silver and sharp. It wasn't a nobleman's weapon – simple, bland steel – but to Zen, it was _more._

Mitsuhide knelt.


	4. IV

**IV.**

She saw him before Mitsuhide saw her, so Kiki had the opportunity to study her partner.

Mitsuhide was many of the things the servant ladies and maids working in the castle whispered about behind closed doors; from behind their hands and their smiles. Tall and lean, with strong hands, his oddly two-colored hair, clear grey eyes and a handsome face, he was certainly easy on the eyes. He had impeccable manners and was unfailingly kind to everyone – with a few exceptions, but that didn't crop up in the long run. But that was mainly it, too. He wasn't as strikingly handsome as the king, or endowed with the easy, mesmerizing charm his brother possessed. Still, once or twice, Kiki had observed women trying to gauge his reaction to their flirtations. And Mitsuhide had, gently and patiently and sometimes flustered and blushing, diverted every single one of those attempts.

Kiki had laughed at him, at first. And then her laughter had turned into a frown, and then –

It was hard, nowadays. Looking at him and not feeling the childish, embarrassing possessiveness that bordered on ridiculousness. Kiki had always been good at hiding both her thoughts and her feelings, but the past two years had made her a master.

 _(And the past days might have set her back to square one because, Heavens, it was painful.)_

In the light of the few lamps illuminating the dark corridor, he looked tired _._ He had since the events in Celeg. But while exhaustion had stooped his shoulders before, he now seemed… taller. His shoulders weren't hunched, his step, although tired, wasn't the one of a man at the verge of self-destruction. And his expression –

"Kiki."

He saw her, and she stood back from the wall she had been leaning against.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

"Everybody seems to be doing this tonight." There was humor in his voice, and Kiki's heart twisted in overwhelming relief. The hopelessness he had carried with him for the past week: it was still there, in bits and pieces, like shadows flitting over a lake by day. But she could also see the light. She could see Mitsuhide, _her_ Mitsuhide, all patience and kindness. Responsible and dependable like a rock. His lips twisted – not quite a smile, but close, and so much like _him_ – and her resolve strengthened once again.

If that was what it took to make him happy, she'd gladly give up on him.

"It's late," he said.

They stood in the corridor, and Kiki looked at him: shadows and light, two-colored hair and plain sword, and the shape of his shoulders and his face. He was so familiar to her that she had no words for it.

When she didn't answer, he took another two steps and opened the door to his quarters, then stood aside again. She met his wordless offer with a wordless answer of hers, carefully stepping into his private rooms and focusing all her concentration on calming herself. There was a difference between sharing a room in a guest house or at the garrison, and in entering someone else's private quarters. She'd never felt it more acutely.

They'd never actually been in the other's quarters. They… they just hadn't.

Mitsuhide entered behind her and shut the door again, and Kiki really wanted to take a moment to observe her surroundings. But her focus shifted to Mitsuhide immediately, drawn in like a magnet.

 _Be rational_ , she told herself sternly. And was floored to realize that, for the first time in her life, she couldn't.

To distract herself from him, she forced herself to take in the space. There was a small seating area with a sofa and a table at the far side of the room, in front of the windows. A desk on the other side, looking over the park; and the bed in the farthest corner: simple and modest. The heavy, leather-bound books in the shelf seemed as if someone had arranged the items for appearance's sake but hadn't cared to choose literature the inhabitant would actually read. The desk was full of papers, carefully organized into overlapping stacks.

Kiki, unable to sit down, went to the window and stood, looking outside.

Mitsuhide leaned against his desk. She could see him from the corner of her eyes – and promptly he was the only thing she focused on.

"Zen and I talked."

She'd known it. She'd seen it the second she laid eyes on him. Mitsuhide never did well without a goal and a purpose, and Zen had given him both in the past. He would in the future, as well.

"You're going to Wilant, aren't you."

She managed to ban all emotion from her voice, but it was hard.

"Yes."

His usually restless hands were still. He was as tired as she was.

Kiki attempted a smile. It came out crooked, and she prayed he didn't notice. "Have you found it, then?"

He looked at his hands and she looked with him, lean, muscular hands with callouses all over.

"Yes."

She had to swallow around the knot in her throat. "That's good."

There were advantages to not needing words to understand your partner. And then, there was … _this._ Whatever this was. Kiki felt like she was trapped in a room that was slowly drained of air.

"It's late."

Why had she come to see him, anyway? To make sure of – to make sure of what? _Ah, yes._ To make sure he was alright. Well, he was, right?

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She spun on her heel and walked towards the door blindly.

Mitsuhide made a movement as if to stop her, but he never touched her. " _Wait._ "

He didn't need to. Kiki froze.

He crossed the room and stood in front of her. When he didn't say anything she looked into his face: it was twisted in indecision and unhappiness – and something else.

"Kiki…" He reached out almost blindly, his hand touching her hair. Kiki's eyes closed involuntarily. Mitsuhide tore his hand away again.

"I'm sorry!"

She breathed out carefully and controlled and looked at him. As it had in the past two years, his sight hit her right in the solar plexus; like a particularly vicious blow. (Maybe somewhere higher.) In the light of the flickering lamps he looked soft, and familiar, and lost. So much like Mitsuhide, the person she loved, so much like the man she'd trust with her life. The urge to touch him came with the familiar intensity, burning and cold. _Just once. Just now. Just… Please._ Exhausted and with an aching heart, she gave in.

"I'm sorry, too."

He looked confused. "Why-"

And Kiki leaned forward, took hold of his shirt and tugged him forward until she could press her lips to his.

 _One heartbeat._

 _Two._

Softly, chaste. Mitsuhide's lips were warm, that was the only thing she could think of.

 _Three_.

And Mitsuhide made a desperate sound in the back of his throat, his arms came up and wrapped around her, and he _kissed her_.

* * *

Maybe he was unpracticed. Maybe it was stupid. Kiki really didn't care.

But she was the one to break the spell, when the need to breathe couldn't be ignored anymore. Separating from him felt physically painful. Still too tired to care, and vaguely arguing with herself that it didn't really matter since he knew what she felt in regards to him anyway, she just pressed her face against his chest instead of moving away, gripped the back of his shirt even tighter and closed her eyes. Mitsuhide was warm and solid, and his arms around her tightened when he realized she wasn't going anywhere. His shoulders were shaking. Or maybe hers were, or they both were. He dropped his face to her head, his lips touching her hair. Kiki breathed in and counted his heartbeats, and wished for time to stop.

Time passed.

The next thing she knew, Mitsuhide was lifting her up again – carefully, like he was carrying something breakable and not her, who could hold her own against him in a swordfight. Being carried by him two nights ago had been a terrifying experience. Kiki had never done well when it came to surrendering herself completely to other people – in fact, she didn't, period. Being carried meant she had to break down all her walls that made her shy away from other people's touch – and, even more so, the one that whispered, constantly, to be careful whom to trust. People betrayed other people. People were let down by other people constantly. Touka Bergatt surely hadn't been the one to teach her to guard herself, he had merely been another one in a long line of people before him. But Mitsuhide was different. Mitsuhide had earned her trust a long time ago – she wouldn't place him in the same line as Bergatt and Hisame, she _couldn't._ It was impossible. She trusted him with her life, anyway, and, even more important: with Zen's life. So when he had carried her back to her room from the gardens, she had just – let go. She had allowed him to lift her as if she didn't weight anything, and he had brought her back to her chambers without a word. Now, too, he lifted her up and deposited her on his bed. And Kiki couldn't help but flinch at the touch of the fabric of the blanket and pillows below her, and at the realization of where she was.

He reared away from her immediately, raising both his hands. "No. _No._ Wait."

It wasn't as if she expected him to take advantage of her, really, because – she _could_ hold her own against him. But when it came to it, he was a man, and in terms of physical strength he'd always be superior to her.

"I will stay over here, okay?" He blushed.

"No." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I was just surprised." She scooted over to the far end of his bed and nodded at the other side. "You can sit, too."

Her gaze probably told him not to argue, because he didn't. He just moved over and sat, cross-legged and facing her. His hands were opening and closing again.

And then they stared at each other, at a loss for words.

Mitsuhide was the first to turn away. He groaned, a sound that would have made her laugh any other day.

"I don't know what to do anymore."

Kiki _did_ know what she was going to do. She would stay in Clarines until Zen had organized his and Mitsuhide's transfer to Wilant. And then she would go back to her father's house and exchange her sword, the castle and her freedom for a dress, her father's office and a pen. She would work with him in the morning and read and study and inspect in the afternoon. There would be social engagements: she would visit other family's estates or receive visits from families trying to make well with the Seiran family that had the Second Prince's ear and trust. She would attend tea parties and evening galas, balls and dinners. She would listen and talk and watch. There would be no sparring with soldiers in the mornings, no brunches with Shirayuki and Zen in the greenhouses. No Obi would be turning up through windows and from treetops. And Mitsuhide –

Kiki banished the thought as soon as if came and bowed her head.

"We'll get over this."

Mitsuhide's hand carded through his hair – it was starting to look seriously messy, and that was something, with his usually short and spiky hair. Kiki longed to touch it.

"I don't want to get over you, Kiki."

She looked up, astonished.

He was mortified. "I mean – I can't – Zen – I have to…" He would choose Zen over her any day.

Mitsuhide looked away, miserable. "I don't want to lose either one of you. I wish we could have stayed together like we always were."

Kiki had to look away to hide the flash of fury that probably showed in her eyes. He wanted things to be like they always had been, with him and Zen and her? Like in the past two years? When she had been in love with him and he had been too dense to realize – or too much in denial? It didn't really matter. Being in love with your partner who wasn't in love with you wasn't exactly the time of your life.

"Things change."

He caught it; sensed her anger and hurt. Mitsuhide was perceptive, always had been. Maybe the reason he hadn't realized her feelings for him earlier had been because he hadn't known what clues to look out for – or because she was really, _really_ good at hiding them.

"Kiki. Look at me." His eyes were soft _._ Kiki couldn't _not_ do what he asked of her. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Which way?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't want to go all the way back. I just wish we could stay together. The way we are now, with Zen and Shirayuki and Obi. I didn't mean…"

He was blushing, again. Part of Kiki wanted to spare him the embarrassment. But another part of her needed to hear this, needed to _know_ –

"I meant it when I said I love you." Mitsuhide always had carried his heart in his eyes, and it never had been clearer than this instant. "And I – I am honored by your proposal. And your feelings."

He cleared his throat.

"I don't want to get over you."

It made her heart lift, a bit, only to feel it drop another ten feet.

"You will."

He just shook his head, his grey eyes a window to his heart, and Kiki couldn't stand it any longer. Her brain caught up with her lips when the words were halfway out of her mouth, and by then, it was too late.

"It always was easier when we were separated."

Mitsuhide looked confused first, and then hurt. "Easier? When we were not together?"

"The distance." It was hard to explain it, but she had to, now. He was coming to the wrong conclusion. "I wasn't ever afraid of physical distance between us. Like when you went away to Celeg for an inspection, and Zen and I stayed at Wistalia? Or when I followed Shirayuki onto the pirate ship? I never felt the distance between us as something dangerous. I never was afraid it might… change something."

It had never been the distance, no.

Instead, it was the nearness that was killing her. There just was so much that he _was,_ and he had been _so_ close _every day_. Just by reaching out she would have been able to touch him, and that fact alone had separated them more effectively than any wall, moat or drawbridge, or even physical distance, could ever have. Knowing he was close but unattainable was worse than knowing he was far away, always had been. Because she knew, if anything would come between them, it wouldn't be the distance. She could always rely on Mitsuhide. In return, she would always –

"So what was harder than being apart?" He asked, carefully, and she told him. It made him look at her like he wanted to kiss her again, and she would have let him. But he didn't, and it probably was better that way.

"Kiki…" He sighed. "What are you thinking, Kiki?"

Sometimes, Kiki thought that she'd rather be married to him and separated by distance than not being allowed to touch him ever again.

Mitsuhide looked understandably upset. His hands – _she needed to focus on something else_.

"Wilant is almost two and a half day trips away from the Plains."

"I know."

"It's ridiculous. We'd not be able to see each other for weeks."

"I know."

"And Zen – I can't –"

"I _know."_

She knew. So the fact that she didn't care – at least, not about his arguments that didn't involve Zen – was probably very, very stupid.

Her hand moved, shot out and grabbed his wrist, and Mitsuhide stopped tugging at his hair. His hand was large compared to hers, and she loved the feeling of it in hers. The way his fingers wrapped around her wrist, his index and middle finger on her pulse, as if to feel her heartbeat through it. She also felt like drowning, so holding on to _something_ was vital.

Mitsuhide laughed, a rough, choked sound. "Kiki, don't be ridiculous. We can't be married with you living in Evergreen Manor and me in Wilant. What sense would that make?"

"I don't really care whether it does make sense or not."

"Not _yet._ "

"Not ever."

"What would your father say?"

"I don't really care about that, either." She did, in a way, but… _Mitsuhide_. "He agreed to our marriage if you came to live with us. Why would he mind if you were abroad half of the time?"

"Half of the time?" He echoed. "But I can't…" And stopped short.

"You can't leave Zen?"

He laughed again, wildly. "But I can, can't I. For some time. It's not like etiquette requires my constant presence anymore, I wouldn't be his official Sword, anyway. And Obi's there, too."

That was news, but Kiki wasn't surprised. She doubted anyone would be able to remove the shinobi from Zen's – Shirayuki's, more likely – side.

She almost didn't recognize her voice, it sounded so alien. "Would you consider it?"

"Being married to you for half of the year?"

Kiki shook her head, her fingers tightening around his. "No, being married to me for the rest of your life. _Seeing_ me only half a year. We can work something out."

He stared at her. "That's insane. It will never work."

"Two years," she reminded him, and he flinched.

"Really?"

It made her smile: his consternation, his shame. "I really didn't notice, Kiki. I'm sorry."

"If I had wanted you to notice, you would have."

It made him laugh, rough but amused. "Oh, Kiki. This will never work."

"Why not?"

"How on earth is a relationship supposed to work out when one half of the couple is gone for half the time?"

"You are aware that there are soldiers stationed at the borders for six months in a row who have wives and children at home, aren't you?"

Something made him blush furiously – maybe her mentioning children.

"But…"

Suddenly, she was tired of arguing. Tired of this, tired of everything. She tipped backward; ended up on her back on his bed, and crossed her arms over her face to blot out her surroundings.

"You know what, forget it. If you don't want, I'm not going to force you."

She should go back to her own room, this was Mitsuhide's, his bed. He probably wanted to sleep, too. But the sheets smelled like him, and she was so tired…

And then something – someone – curled up around her, surrounded her with warmth and touch, and her entire body relaxed on its own. Mitsuhide buried his face at her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, warm and strong and so achingly, amazingly familiar.

"There's nothing I want more."

The whisper was warm at her ear, his breath ghosting over her cheek, and Kiki, her eyes flying open, only managed to turn onto her side and closer against him. He was beautiful.

 _Mitsuhide._

"I love you so much," she whispered, and Mitsuhide started, like it still surprised him to hear those words from her. She needed to make him believe, but she'd do that another day.

Kiki fell asleep like that, fully dressed, Mitsuhide's arms wrapped around her securely and hoping – or maybe even believing – that everything would be alright.

* * *

Awakening was like always: just being there.

Kiki never had had trouble returning to the waking world. Her brain switched on the moment she surfaced from sleep. The first thing she saw was Mitsuhide's face, asleep, turned towards her, relaxed and peaceful.

Kiki's heart slammed against her rib cage almost painfully and then resumed with its normal pace.

There was light in the room, birds were singing in front of the windows and Kiki's inner clock told her it was time to get back to her own room. Carefully, she untangled herself from the blanket – he must have covered them sometimes at night – and rolled out of the bed, landing softly on the ground. Her hair that had been confined in its usual braid wasn't worse for the wear, but she would need to change clothes, and –

When she turned around, Mitsuhide was watching her.

He hadn't moved, otherwise she would have taken note of it. Not even the pattern of his breath had changed. But his eyes were open, a clear grey-and-blue in the morning light, and his hair shone where the sun touched it. Kiki's breath caught in her throat.

He sat up in one graceful movement – she never had thought in those terms, but there was no other word for it – and took her hand, and Kiki couldn't think.

"Have you changed your mind?" He asked, almost lightly, but the intensity in his eyes was staggering. She could only shake her head. "Good. Because I haven't, either."

His hands were so _warm –_

 _"_ I have to go."

"I'll see you later?"

When she nodded, still speechless, he smiled – a tiny, secret smile that made her heart flutter again, and Kiki thanked Heavens that he didn't go around wearing that smile, because then she'd probably have run out of patience a long time ago. Mitsuhide drew in her hand and kissed the air above her wrist with something that wasn't quite mere courtesy and also not merely gentlemanliness – all while looking at her, his eyes never leaving hers. And Kiki was still trying to find a word for the _something_ in his gaze –

 _Reverence._

She fled.

And had to stop in front of his door and lean against it to catch her breath. The wood under her hands was warm and blessedly solid.

 _Heavens_ , she thought. _What have I gotten myself into?_

It made her stomach flutter like a thousand birds. It made her smile, _Mitsuhide_ made her smile. He'd practically agreed to marry her, hadn't he? She would hold him to that, dammit.

Kiki picked up her heart that had changed its aggregate state from solid to liquid sometime in the course of the last night, threw a last, shy glance at his door and went her way.

* * *

She was the first to arrive at their meeting point.

Zen and Shirayuki joined them next, and Mitsuhide. Her heart was fluttering like a flock of sparrows but when she caught sight of him, the world stilled. He drew her eyes in as soon as he entered the room, like a shift in the center of gravity.

Zen's eyes, too, flew sideward towards his approaching aide, acknowledging him and darting away again, focused as he was on his conversation with Shirayuki. And then the second prince did a double-take, literally, stopping dead and whipping around to stare at Mitsuhide, and Shirayuki almost walked straight into the door he had begun holding for her.

"What's wrong?" The apothecary asked, concerned, and the second prince just stood there, gaping very un-princely.

Mitsuhide grinned, but didn't say anything.

Slowly, slowly, Zen's gaze wandered back to Kiki. She put on her best neutral face. Zen regarded her closely for what felt like hours and she was almost afraid he would be able to hear her stuttering heart. But he merely shook his head, still in slow motion, and turned back to Shirayuki.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I just thought I saw something I've never seen before. What were you saying?"

Kiki looked at Mitsuhide and felt her lips stretch, and Mitsuhide gave her one of the smiles that were reserved for her only. At least that was the way it felt like. Shirayuki's clear laughter rang, echoed by Zen's deeper chuckles, and Obi's voice lifted above it, commenting. The sun fell through the large windows, illuminating their surroundings and momentarily blinding her, and when Kiki lifted her hand to protect her eyes she caught Mitsuhide's glance, again, warm and soft and –

* * *

And that was when it struck her.

Kiki had never expected her life to be … well. Brilliant, perhaps? Shining? Promising? None of that. She had always known she had a _good_ life, and would have a _good_ future. Because she was Katherine Seiran, and while the Seiran family certainly wasn't as rich as the Lugis family, it was well-off, nevertheless. And she was the only daughter so she would be her father's heir, one day – that much had always been clear and nobody had ever seriously contested it. In a world that consisted of kings and princes ruling kingdoms, that certainly wasn't a given.

When her mother had died and left her child alone in a large mansion, with a tutor and a maid and a cook and a father that shut himself away in his grief, Kiki had been seven years old. It was old enough to be able to remember. Memories of her mother were rare, but they were always beautiful. Clarissa Lafrey had married for love – one of the rare love matches in Clarines, especially rare because the Seiran family was known as one of the most conservative and traditionalist families in the kingdom. But Edward Anthony Seiran hadn't been a traditionalist. He had been a good husband – that was what Kiki supposed, at least, because she hadn't known her mother anything other but cheerful, happy and in love. Her illness had been unanticipated and brutally quick. At its end, Clarissa left behind a daughter that neither cried nor spoke and a husband who first buried himself first in grief, then in work. It had taken a few years until Kiki had been coaxed out of her shell. Around that time, too, her father had finally found a way to deal with the girl that reminded him so much of his deceased wife. Katherine Seiran received official lessons on how to behave, speak and move like a lady, and on government and estate management, politics, history and economics. As well as unofficial lessons in sword fighting, riding, and weaponless defense, and, as it was, it wasn't half bad. When Kiki met Zen Skye Wistalia for the first time, she already knew most of what she would have needed to know to take the responsibility over the Seiran estate out of her father's hands.

Alas, she didn't want to.

Thinking back, it was difficult to pinpoint what had held her back. Kiki used to think that she had been afraid of the responsibility, but that didn't make sense. She'd known most of what she needed to know, and she'd still have her father by her side. So what had made her hesitate? What had made her listen to a Prince even younger than her when he cheerfully challenged her to a duel, and what had made her accept his offer to be his aide in the first place?

( _She had made him sweat, in their first sparring fight, and she refused to let him win. He just laughed, at the end, peeved by having been beaten by a woman and yet gracious enough to openly accept her better form – and he invited her to visit them at Castle Wistalia so she could teach his Sword a few of her moves.)_

That had been seven years ago, and she had never once regretted it.

Of course, she hadn't always been welcomed with open arms. Her father had warned her. _You are a woman. That is the first and foremost thing everyone will see when looking at you, not the sword at your side or the list of your achievements._ And there had been people like Hisame Lugis, who saw her as a means to an end only or who refused to acknowledge her abilities, advice, her actions and her decisions on the grounds that she was not a man. But Zen had never cared for that. He had fought her fair and square and had neither pretended that he was only letting her win because she was inferior nor had contested her achievements as cheating or worse. Shirayuki and Obi accepted her the way she was, too, and she never had had the feeling she needed to prove himself to them. And Mitsuhide… _Mitsuhide._ He'd accepted her exactly the way she was, and never had expected anything of her he wouldn't have been willing to do himself, as well. In a world in which women often were nothing more but pretty accessories to man's ego, in which a woman carrying a sword was as much an aberration as a lady leading a clan, the easy acceptance she had received had been staggering.

Still was.

She had learned so much, seen so much. Met so many people; Mitsuhide, Shirayuki and Obi, had found something she would die for.

Kiki was in the place she had considered hers for the past few years. And there were changes coming – large ones – ones that would shift her entire world, as small as it was, sideward. She would have to give up some things she loved, and would be granted other things in return: things she hoped she would come to like, perhaps even love. Katherine Seiran had, at an early age, accepted that she would follow in her father's footsteps one day. Maybe she would have preferred a different future, had she been able to get to know more of the world. But as it was, this was fine with her. At the Evergreen estate new experiences, new challenges and new people were waiting for her.

And she wouldn't be alone. Zen, Shirayuki and Obi would still be there, far away but still beloved. That would never change. And Mitsuhide would be with her, as well, maybe not walking at her side always, but treading the same road as she would. They would be together.

It was more than Kiki would have expected of her life.

Mitsuhide smiled, and Kiki felt like she had just come home.

* * *

The day Zen would leave Wistalia for Wilant came up; a beautiful late-summer day that dawned after a week of grey skies and occasional rain.

"Well, look at that."

Obi dropped in through the open hallway window, landing in a crouch in front of her feet.

"Miss Kiki. I am speechless. Creeping out of Mitsuhide's room at dawn?"

Kiki shot him a mild glance. "Good morning, Obi."

Obi rolled his eyes dramatically and pressed a hand to his heart. "Just imagine how much heartbreak your departure will cause among the soldiers. And Mitsuhide's among the maids!"

"Are you finished?" She asked back.

He dropped all pretenses but kept on grinning like a maniac. "Maybe. Is he going to marry you?"

As it was, that was a question Kiki would have loved to know the answer to, as well. As it was, it was also nothing she was going to tell him about that, so she only fixed a calm glance on him.

"Maybe."

Obi crossed his arms behind his head and fell in step with her. "You know, Miss Kiki, it's going to be different without you. Mitsuhide will brood for _weeks_. You sure you don't wanna come with us?"

"Pretty sure, yes." Kiki replied, drily. "I know I'm leaving the three of them in your capable hands."

Obi reared back. "You are doing _what_? Trusting me? Oh, the pressure! The responsibility! I can't possibly deal with it –"

That made her stop, and reach out.

"Ouch!" Rubbing the back of his head, the Second Prince's Messenger grinned self-deprecatingly. "I guess I deserved that."

"Obi –"

Kiki only had to look at him. He understood, he always had. He might not be trained in the same way Mitsuhide was, and he didn't have Kiki's upbringing. But at the bottom of his heart, Obi had exactly the same thing Mitsuhide and she shared: a deep, uncontested loyalty towards Zen and Shirayuki.

"I know." The no-good jokester was gone in an instant, replaced by the shinobi. "I will do my best, Miss Kiki. And Mitsuhide will still be there, of course. Don't worry."

"Good." She couldn't help herself: she smiled, slightly. "Take care of yourself, too, Obi, will you?"

Obi frowned, and then laughed softly. "Why does everybody here think of the others first and foremost?"

"That's just the way it is. You are the same, you know."

In the past, Kiki was pretty sure, Obi would have protested. Would have joked that his loyalty and consideration belonged to the one who paid him best, and only as long as the price was right. In the past, he would have deflected these kinds of serious topics and moments. Now, he only leaned back slightly, looking up into the sky.

"Maybe you're right."

"Maybe." Kiki smiled.

They continued on in companionable silence, until –

"So is Mitsuhide going to marry you now or not?"

* * *

"Zen."

Zen whirled around so quickly he almost stumbled. "Brother? What are you doing here?"

King Izana didn't move a muscle in his face. Against the ice-blue autumn sky his hair looked impossibly blond, more golden even than Zen's. Queen Haki was standing behind him, wearing a thin dress with short sleeves – to her, Kiki supposed, the slight chill that hung in the morning air was nothing more than a gentle breeze.

"I want to see my brother off, is that not allowed?"

That was it, Kiki supposed: the end of her time as Zen's sword and aide. The end of her time at Castle Wistalia. Her father had sent a carriage, to take her back to Evergreen Manor as soon as Zen departed for the North. Kiki had sent the carriage back immediately, and sure as hell wasn't planning on wearing a dress for the journey.

Some things came early enough anyway.

Zen pulled a face that was overall a mix of fond exasperation and sincere respect. "Good Morning, Mylady."

Queen Haki smiled. "I expect you will travel to Lyrias first, to meet up with your fiancée."

Zen's ears turned red. "Yes."

"Good." She laughed, softly. "Give my regards to my brother, the governor."

"I will, Mylady."

Next, he turned to Izana. "Brother…"

For once, the king did not say anything. Maybe Kiki imagined it, but his smile was far less challenging than it usually was, and the warmth in his eyes palpable.

"I swear I won't disappoint you."

"You never will, Zen." Izana crossed the short distance between them and put his arms around his brother, hugging him quickly but strongly. "Take care. I will await your reports."

When he stepped back, Zen's smile was blinding.

"Mitsuhide."

"Yes?"

Kiki hadn't realized how much she had dreaded this second until Mitsuhide stood to attention behind Zen, facing the king. Kiki could see the tension in his shoulders. Hers stiffened in response.

"You will be going to Wilant, as well?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Won't you regret it?"

Mitsuhide held the king's gaze, unflinchingly. "I don't know. But I do know that my place is at Zen's side."

King Izana looked at him, his eyes unreadable. And then he nodded, as if satisfied by what he had heard. "I made the right choice."

Mitsuhide closed his eyes, briefly, and Kiki felt the tension drain from him like water from a leaking dam. Her own heartbeat calmed.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Stay with him."

"I will. I swear."

"Good." Izana turned back to his brother. "I suppose your flighty messenger is out and about?"

"Obi's not flighty, brother."

Izana looked like he was mildly surprised his little brother was contradicting him, but with him, you never knew, anyway. Queen Haki was wearing a smile that was as non-descriptive as the king's frown. Whatever it was morphed into fond teasing in the king's voice.

"Of course not."

And, finally, he turned to Kiki. "Lady Seiran, you will leave us today, as well."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Knowing your father, he is planning on waiting until the winter senate session to introduce you properly to all council members."

"That is right, Your Majesty."

The king smiled again, enigmatically. "I am looking forward to the changes House Seiran will undergo under your leadership, Lady Katherine."

He turned back to Zen and Mitsuhide and the small corps of soldiers that were accompanying them to Wilant to relieve the currently stationed frontier guard for the last time.

"Travel safely."

Zen bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, brother."

Izana swept back into the castle, Queen Haki hard on his heels. And suddenly, everyone was looking at her.

"Kiki…"

"This is not good bye," she said, hastily, almost stumbling over the words. "Don't you dare."

Zen smiled. "No, you're right. It's not." He stepped towards her and suddenly she had to gaze upwards to meet his eyes. When had he grown taller than her?

 _He always had been,_ she thought, strangely elated and desperately sad at the same time.

"Thank you, Kiki."

He'd said it the day before, and now, again.

"I can never repay what you –" He glanced at Mitsuhide – "And Mitsuhide have done for me. So… _Thank you_."

She bowed her head. "It was my honor."

And then, suddenly, Zen was checking the saddle of his horse, and Obi was helping, chatting a mile a minute, and Kiki found herself face to face with Mitsuhide.

"So…" His voice trailed off, nervously. His right hand clamped down on his sword hilt, tightly, his other trailed through his hair.

She made the decision for him.

"Come back."

Something ran over his face, too fast to decipher – but Kiki knew him. She _knew_ Mitsuhide.

Stepping back again, already missing his closeness, she focused on keeping herself together.

"I'll be there."

He followed her. He moved towards her and into her personal space, much like she had done only seconds before. But he only cupped the back of her head and leaned forward to press their foreheads together, and up close, his tiny smile encompassed a world.

"I will."

And then, they were gone.

Kiki waited until, at last, the small cloud of dust trailing behind the horses had dissipated, until she couldn't make out the colors in the distance.

Then she turned around and began walking towards her future, and she didn't look back.

* * *

"You are smiling, Lady Katherine," one of the two guards at the gate commented when she approached, and his colleague hissed at him to shut up. He continued on, unperturbed. "It looks good on you."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Please come again!" The brash guard called behind her, and Kiki directed one last look at the castle that had been her home for the past few years. In the midday sun, it shone like the main setting of a fairytale.

This was the place where a handsome young prince and his shining knight had lived, and where the prince had fallen in love with a red-haired apothecary student. The place where the prince's jester and messenger had poked fun at the knight. The place where a lady who had been frozen in time had learned how to smile again, and how to trust.

It was the place in which Kathrine Seiran had found her world: not small, not large.

But _precious._

 _Goodbye_ , she thought towards the white castle and its turrets and walkways, towers and gates. _Goodbye, and thank you._

Maybe, fairytales really came true. Who would be able to tell?

 _Until we meet again._


End file.
